The Waters of Lethe
by Miss Woodford
Summary: It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. Edward makes, and loses a friend who reminds him of someone dear in the alchemic world. Partial re-write with new text.
1. I Don't Recall

**The Waters Of Lethe**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA, I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile.

**Summary:** Post series, may contain series spoilers. This is my attempt at writing a drabble series about Edward's life in our world. Will contain violence, sex, blood, poor German, and even worse Japanese. Some of the events of the movie will be touched upon, but they will happen differently.

**Beta:** Insane Fangirl!

Chapter One: I Don't Recall (Ich rufe nicht zuruck)

_Munich, Germany, 1927_

Edward Elric had been in the machine world for so long, he had largely forgotten his life in the alchemic one. After each long day of working as a teacher's assistant in his father's chemistry and physics classes at the university, Edward would sit quietly on the sofa and sift through his memories. His mind would bring up everyone he knew on the other side of the Gate, their faces, the color of their hair and eyes, their particular quirks, and the sounds of their voices.

And everyday he forgot more and more. The memories were gradually fading and on a cold, bleak day in early December, Edward realized he was having great diffuculty recalling the sound of Alphonse's voice. The shape and color of his little brother's eyes were all he had left of Al, and the knowledge greatly distressed him. Edward bit the inside of his cheek to keep his lips from trembling and the tears from rising to his eyes - again.

Edward was so engrossed in his ruminations, he didn't hear Hohenheim calling him for dinner until a pair of large hands clapped down upon his narrow shoulders. A lined and reddened face, much like that of an old lion hovered mere inches from Edward's own smooth and pale one while narrow and cataract filmed golden eyes bored into his wider orbs of the same color. Hohenheim tightened his grip and waited a moment to see if physical pressure would bring Edward back from his daydream world.

It didn't, so he gently shook the young man and finally spoke firmly to him "Edward!"

The younger Elric came back to reality with a jerk, he gasped and his golden gaze widened even more as he looked at his father in shock. Hohenheim frowned at the reaction; his son had undergone surgery four months ago and while he had bounced back physically - there was something - his vital 'spark', Hohenheim thought - still missing.

He thought he knew what it was. Edward had reached the fianl stage - acceptance. After denial, anger, and several years of research and struggle he had finally been forced to accept the inevitable fact.

Without alchemy, opening a portal home was impossible. He would never see Al again.

The day Edward realized this, it hit him like a hard blow to the face and he curled up in his bed at the hospital and cried storms of bitter tears like his heart had been broken. And in a sense it had. Now as his stared at his father on that evening, Edward had an epiphany:

_Memories hurt too much - I don't want to remember._


	2. Pills 'n Thrills

**The Waters Of Lethe**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA, I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile..

**Author's note:** Post series, may contain series and movie spoilers. This is my attempt to write an account of Edward's life in our world as a series of drabbles. The type will vary: angst, drama, suspense, tragedy, mystery, etc. Rating is "M" for later violence, sex, blood, and maybe bad language.

**Beta: **Kittygirl109

Chapter Two: Pills 'n Thrills (Pillen und Thrills)

After Edward had been found bruised and bleeding in the rubble of a bombed out building in London, Hohenheim noted he had never been the same. The once robust boy now tended to be sickly and he fell ill every few months with one machine world ailment or another. When the job offer from Munich University came his way, Hohenheim jumped at the chance. It wasn't just the prestige and the extra pay which swayed him, but the opportunity to get Edward out of London. He utterly loathed London doctors and in turn, they were glad to see the back of the "evil tempered little sod" who gave them such grief.

Not that Munich doctors had any better luck with the ornery boy . But Hohenheim took advantage of his position as a faculty member of the university to introduce Edward to Professor Jungbeck, head of the engineering department. When he was again bedridden by illness, Edward had spent his time drawing up design schematics for prosthetic metal limbs, and Herr Professor was astounded by the precocious teen's talent. He in turn introduced Edward to some of his brighter students to help him turn his drawings into solid objects.

These machine world copies of automail would never be as durable as the real thing but Edward wasn't expecting to fight homunculi with them. He just wanted to stand on his own two feet and take care of his physical needs - washing, dressing, eating, and using the bathroom. After Edward patiently explained myoelectric and neural theories to Professor Bauer, head of surgery at the hospital wing of the university, installation of the prosthetics was performed in one of the operating theatres. It was very painful, and it took weeks to recover but the day Edward was able to stand without using a crutch was the day his view of this world forever changed. He actually smiled at his father soon after and it was if the sun had come out after weeks of cloudy weather.

It also brought the Elrics to the attention of the Thule Society, and the Nazi Party. Hohenheim thought their babblings about "Shambala" amusing and the weekly rituals around their idea of an alchemic array charming, so he joined the society and dragged a bemused Edward along as well for what he later termed "supernatural hootenannies". But the Nazis weren't quite so amusing when they confiscated Edward's schematic drawings and ordered him not to discuss his prosthetics with "foreigners".

"They act as if they own me." he grumbled to his father.

Which was the crux of what Hohenheim wished to talk about to his demoralized son that December evening. "Edward, finish your dinner," he urged. "You need to keep up your strength for the days ahead. Somehow, I don't know exactly how, but the leadership of the Thule Society now know we are from the alchemic world. Very soon, I fear we will have to run."


	3. Time To Depart

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA, I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile.

**Author's note:** This is my attempt at writing a drabble series about Edward's life in our world. It's post series and may contain spoilers. Some movie events will occur, but they will happen differently. Rated "M" for language, and later violence, possibly sex. (I haven't decided yet)

**Beta: **Kittygirl109

_3. Time To Depart _(Zeit zum abzureisen)

Edward dropped his fork to the china plate before him, and stared at his father in dismay. "When did this happen? HOW did this happen?"

"Someone got suspicious and began snooping around in the pasts of our alters." Hohenheim put down his fork as well and pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation, he had made a pleasant life for himself in Munich and he didn't want to leave it. "This person found - _discrepencies_ - subtle gaps - between the times our alters died and we appeared. I must admit it's my fault, it never occured to me the Thule Society would investigate us."

"What's going to happen next?" Edward picked up his fork again and and speared a piece of weinerschnitzel on the tines, but he didn't really have an appetite for it. "Will they try to force us to open a portal?"

Hohenheim held up one hand. "Calm down, Edward. I have to meet with Hitler and Eckart tonight, but I'm hoping I can reason with them. I'll tell them their investigator was mistaken - they've believed me before and I think I can convince them. But just in case, I've come up with a plan B, so finish your dinner and I'll fill you in."

Edward cleaned his plate with reluctance, he wasn't really hungry but his father would nag him to eat. So he ate every last scrap of the wienerschnitzel, mashed red potatoes, and diced carrots set before him. Hohenheim had forced himself to learn how to cook and while he would never be great at it, the food he made was at least edible.

After dessert, Hohenheim took Edward into his study and sat down at his desk before he gave him a small silver key and said "There is a safe in the floor of that closet, open it with this key and bring me the contents." Edward did as he was asked and in the safe he found a rectangular metal box about the size of a shoebox. It was also locked and after Edward placed it on the desk Hohenheim inserted a tiny brass key into the lock.

On top of the contents of the box was two passports and some papers. Hohenheim took them out and Edward gasped at what had been concealed by them. Money. Lots of money. His father smiled and he also removed the bundles of cash - they were of all sorts of currencies - marks, pounds, francs, lira, rubles, and kroner. "I put aside a small portion of each paycheck, and had them converted into various currencies in small denominations. If we must run, I won't have time to go to my bank. This will ensure we have ready cash to buy whatever we need."

Edward reached out and fingered the papers. "What are these?"

"Ah, good eye son." Hohenheim picked up and opened one of them. "Fake travel documents - the passports are also fake. I know someone who knows someone who knows someone else, and a friend of his made these up for us. I'm sorry I had to keep you in the dark, but these had to stay a deep secret."


	4. Plans Are Made

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA, I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile.

**Author's note:** Post series AU, may contain spoilers. Rated for violence, blood, character death, and perhaps sex. It's a drabble series about Edward's life in our world as he struggles to let go of painful memories. Some movie events will happen, just not as they did in the movie.

**Warning:** Will eventually contain lousy German, and even worse Japanese. Plus possible movie spoilers.

**Beta:** Kittygirl109

_4. Plans Are Made _(Plane werden gebildet)

Edward picked up one of the passports and opened it to the first page. His picture stared back at him, but the name was false: _Edward Bauer_. He quickly scanned the rest of the page before turning to Hohenheim in confusion. "We're Swiss?"

His father shrugged, "Our alters were British citizens, but we technically don't own allegiance to any country. Because the British Embassy is in Bonn, it would be too far away to help us in case of trouble. Switzerland is a neutral country and the German government cannot follow us once we get past it's borders."

Edward carefully considered his next question. "But won't the Nazis also consider we would flee to Switzerland?"

"That is where the different currencies come in. This gives us more than one option - they will expect us to go west - to France or England, or north - to Switzerland or the Netherlands. But I don't believe east - to Poland or Russia, or south - to Italy or Spain will be thought of. Plus, we can exhange our money at any large bank without suspicion and buy passage to yet another country - would you like to see America?"

Edward shook his head at his father. The man was excited, like a child planning a make-believe adventure to the moon, but this plan was fraught with danger. But before he could broach his concerns, Hohenheim suddenly sobered up. "I can see it in your face Edward, you think I am making this up just to get you out of your funk, don't you? Well, I can assure you Madame Eckart was quite serious, she means to open a portal to our world and now she believes we are 'Shambalans', she wants to have us under her control."

For the second time that night, Hohenheim laid his large hands on Edward's narrow shoulders. _My son is so thin, does he has the strength? _"Listen closely. I want you to go to the attic and fetch two of our suitcases. Pack yours with a few changes of clothes and whatever books or mementoes you absolutely cannot live without. When you get back downstairs, go to the front hall closet and chose a jacket and a coat, then take them to that old chest by the window which overlooks the courtyard. Here are your travel documents and passport, put them in the coat pockets, then hide them in the chest. The day worst comes to worst, you can just grab everything and go out the window."

Edward grimaced, "Father? You will come too, right?" There was a terrible sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach and now he regretted finishing his dinner.

"I will try, Edward." Hohenheim assured him. "But if I can't, I will try to stall them, or even misdirect them so you at least can get away, I - " The ringing phone cut him off, so Hohenheim patted Edward's shoulder then turned away and went into the living room to answer the ringing summons.

From the study, Edward could faintly hear his father speaking. "Yes, I am watching the time Fraulein Eckart, I will be there. No, I won't keep Herr Hitler waiting, the meeting will start promptly. Goodbye."


	5. Preparations

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA, just like to play in it's world and toture Ed for awhile.

**Author's note:** The same old shit as before.

**Warning: **Rated for later language, blood, violence, sex, and sins against good grammar.

**Beta: **Kittygirl109

_5. Preparations _(Vorbereitungen)

Hohenheim came back into the study while pulling on his coat and frowned. Edward sat at his desk, passport and travel documents in his lap while he stared with unfocused eyes at the floor. But he looked up quickly when Hohenheim cleared his throat. "Edward! Stop dawdling, go and get the suitcases, leave mine on my bed, and get your's ready."

The bell of a nearby church chimed the three quarter hour, so Hohenheim didn't advance any further into the room. "My meeting is at six sharp and I dare not be late because Hitler will take it as a personal snub. I don't know how long it will take, so don't wait up for me. Lock the doors and get to bed by nine, I have my own set of keys." The old man spun on his heel and Edward heard his heavy footsteps walking through their house to the front door, it opened and closed quickly and Hohenheim was gone.

Edward sighed and ran his flesh hand over his face. He already felt drained by the events of the past hour and it was with an effort he stood up and left the study then climbed the two flights of stairs to the attic. The space was large - it took up the entire top floor of the house - dusty, and bitterly cold. His breath misting in the frigid air, Edward took a few steps into the attic, picked up two battered brown suitcases from the small group which huddled together as if for warmth on the attic floor and exited.

Edward returned to the second floor still shivering from the cold. After placing one suitcase on his father's bed, he took the other to his bedroom. He opened the suitcase and laid it on his bed, then noticed the fake documents were still in his hand, so he stopped and just stared at them...

It took him over an hour to properly pack his suitcase. In the end, Edward settled on equal numbers of boxers, socks, and undershirts, plus two pairs of pants and three shirts. There weren't any mementoes he wanted, so Edward went to the small bookcase by his bed and selected a few favorite volumes to toss into the case.

He closed the suitcase and strapped it shut before taking it downstairs and setting it by the closet while he ferreted out his long winter coat, and his warmest fall jacket. After bundling them into the old blanket chest by the back window, he checked the doors to make sure they were locked, then turned out all the kitchen lights, save one over the sink. In the living room, he turned off all the lamps, then banked and screened the fire before returning to his bedroom.

Edward had nothing else to do, so he washed up and brushed his teeth in the bathroom before he returned to his bedroom to undress and put on his pajamas. He paused momentarily and regarded his nude reflection in the mirror - he was very thin, with ribs and collarbone standing out slightly against pale skin. His metal hand - covered with a rubber sleeve - idly traced the healed appendectomy scar on his abdomen and he shivered as goosebumps racing across the exposed flesh.

It wasn't nine o'clock yet, so he decided to read for awhile. After pulling on his pajamas, Edward crawled into bed and picked up a slim volume from the bedside table. He had found it in a used bookstore, a 19th century reprint of an ancient alchemy text. Immersed his favorite subject, he forgot the time and eventually fell asleep in the middle of a page, his reading lamp still burning.


	6. Goodbye, Father

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Author's note:** AU, post series. My attempt at writing a drabble series about Edward's life in our world, and his attempt to outrun painful memories by simply forgetting them. Rated for possible violence and maybe sex. You get 2 chapters this week because the system somehow failed to accept the submission of chapter five!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist, I just like to play in it's world torture Ed for awhile.

**Beta: **Kittygirl109

_6. Goodbye, father _(Auf Wiedersehen, vater)

Edward awoke with a start sometime next morning and he knew at once something was off kilter. He had fallen asleep while sitting up in bed, an open book in his right hand and his reading lamp still on. But now the lamp was off, and the book was next to it on the bedside table. Plus he was laying almost flat on his back with the blankets pulled up to his neck.

The window shades were down, but bright sunlight poured around the sides and pooled on the floor in thin bands of yellow. Edward looked over at his alarm clock and his heart sank when he saw the time: nine a.m. _I've forgotten to set my alarm and overslept!_ Wait. He cast his mind back and clearly recalled setting the alarm last night. Had it run down? No, he had wound it yesterday morning. Then the only explanation was his father had turned the alarm off. But why?

Edward had set out his clothes the night before so he dressed quickly and clattered down the steps calling "Father?! Why did you switch my alarm off?" There was no answer so Edward started towards the study, the door of which was closed. But a sound from the sofa behind him stopped him in his tracks.

"Edward." It was a weak croak, barely above a whisper. Edward whipped around and saw Hohenheim half laying - half sitting upon the sofa, was still wearing his coat from the night before. His face was very pale, so pale even his golden eyes looked washed out and a fine sheen of sweat reflected off his cheeks. After Edward drew closer, he could smell the accustomed scent of his father's decaying body, but it had never smelt so strongly before, and the scent was mixed with those of sweat, fear, and a coppery tang which Edward also recognized: blood.

"Edward, I switched if off, but don't worry, I've already called the university office. I told them you had fallen ill during the night, and I've taken a sick day to stay home and care for you." Hohenheim heaved a large sigh for he seemed to be struggling for breath. "The meeting went badly Edward, very badly indeed. Neither Hitler nor Eckart believed my explanations and when I refused to work for them, Hitler picked up a large wooden cudgel and he rammed it into my stomach with all his strength."

Hohenheim coughed just then, bringing up a large amount of dark blood. Edward gasped in horror as his entrie body had gone cold after he knelt on the floor next to the sofa. "Something inside is broken." Hohenheim continued. "I'm sorry, Edward but you will have to go alone, I am going to die very soon." He coughed again, each spasm bringing up another gout of dark red blood. Edward made a choking sound and scuttled back a few inches, but a few drops landed on his pants.

"After he hit me, Hitler said I was too old, like a toothless lion, and they would rather have you instead, So get your coat on and grab your suitcase, I put most of the money into the inside pockets. Then come back and say goodbye to your father before you go. Stop shaking your head like that, you will have to run alone. I hope to see your mother on the other side, but I will likely go to Hell for my sins. I can only hope those whose bodies I've stolen will eventually forgive me."


	7. The Last Act Of A Father

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA, I just like to play in it's world and torture Edward for awhile

**Author's note:** post-series and very AU. This story is classified as angst/drama right now, but the classifications willl change as the modd of the drabbles warrant.

**Warnings:** Character death and blood this chapter.

**Beta:** Kittygirl109

_7. The last act of a father _(Die letzte Tat eines vaters)

Hohenheim's body was suddenly wracked by a spasm of coughing and even more blood gushed from his mouth. His clothes from the neck down to the middle of his heaving chest were soaked with the dark and viscuous substance. Edward knelt a few feet away, trembling violently. He had stuffed his left fist into his mouth to stifle another scream, but a few whimpers forced themselves past the self-imposed gag.

He'd never seen so much blood before, not even during that terrible night in Risembool when he and Alphonse attempted to resurrect their mother and he'd nearly bled to death. There was something odd about the blood coming from Hohenheim's mouth, it was too dark, nearly black, and it appeared to be of a tar-like consistency. He turned his head toward Edward, his eyes shifting back and forth as if looking for him.

"Edward? Where are - I can 't see you, I - I'm so cold." Edward leapt up and pulled a blue and gold afghan from it's spot on the back of the sofa, then laid it over his father's body. When Hohenheim reached up with his left hand, Edward took it in both of his, it was like holding a block of ice. He sat down on the very edge of the sofa, then jumped when Hohenheim's right hand clamped on to his shoulder. With his last bit of strength, Hohenheim spoke his final words. "I never told you this before, but I have faith in you, Edward, and I love you. Even after I'm dead, I will continue to love you. Never forget that."

Hohenheim seemed to want to say more for his mouth still moved, but no sound came out. He closed his eyes, then suddenly he spoke again, but in an unfamiliar voice, "...and yea! thoigh I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil, for thou art with me, amen." Hohenheim's eyes opened again, but they had changed color, from gold to blue and he spoke again in the alien voice, "My name is Paul Briggs, and I am the original owner of this body, Before your father took it over, I hunted down and burned alchemists at the stake as I believed them akin to witches. Because I have also sinned, I forgive Hohenheim Elric his trespasseses and we will pass to the glory of the Lord together."

His right hand slackened it's grip and fell back.

The eyes closed again as Hohenheim/Paul exhaled one long, shuddering breath. His chest didn't move again, but to Edward's horror the skin of the hand he was holding suddenly began to shrink and turn black. He cried out and jumped back, but the hand seemed stuck to his and it detached from the arm. With a cry of disgust, Edward tossed it on the floor before he put both hands over his mouth. His father was decaying before his very eyes. Hohenheim was now just a skeleton tightly covered in skin, and when that began to vanish to reveal a grinning skull, the gorge rose in Edward's throat.

He raced to the kitchen and emptied what ever contents his stomach had held into the sink. When he had nothing more to vomit, Edward sank to the floor with his face in his hands. Over in the living room, he could still hear the horrible sounds of his father decomposing at accelerated speed He ddn't want to look, he didn't dare look until he heard a soft 'shurring' sound. Edward peeked between his fingers - Hohenheim had reached the final stage - he had turned into dust, and it was pouring out of the empty left sleeve of his coat onto the floor.

Edward laid over on his right side and hugging himself as if for comfort, burst into tears. He cried with his mouth open, wailing like a child does. His father was dead and he was all alone in an alien, hostile world.


	8. Like A Thief In The Night

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA, I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile.

**Warning: **May contain movie spoilers.

**Summary:** post series, very AU. The Thule Society has found out he and Hohenheim are from "Shambala" and the father and son have made plans to flee Germany. But Hohenheim is fatally injured during a confrontation with Hitler and he dies in front of a traumatized Edward.

**Beta: **Kittygirl109

_8. Like a thief in the night _(wie en Dieb in der Nacht)

Edward awoke some hours later, still on the kitchen floor. He was stiff and sore from laying in a tucked-up fetal position, his arms yet wrapped around his midsection. His eyes were dry and sore, and his throat felt burned raw so Edward just lay still for a moment before he tried to move. His muscles protested, but he levered himself up on his hands and knees before he rolled to his feet.

_It must have been a nightmare, just a nightmare._

Very slowly, afraid to look, Edward turned his head to the left, towards the living room. There on the sofa were his father's clothes, all sunken down because the man who had been wearing them had been turned to dust. Edward's knees trembled and he grabbed onto the edge of the sink for support. Breathing hard, he began to walk forwards while holding on to kitchen counter because he didn't trust his legs. When the counter came to an end, Edward put each arm out to the side for balance and approached the sofa.

_One foot in front of the other, don't forget to breathe._

A pile of dust in the approximate shape of a human head had replaced the grinning skull which had sent Edward bolting to the kitchen earlier, yet another pile on the floor had sifted out of the left sleeve of Hohenheim's coat and two smaller piles marked the former location of his feet. He couldn't help recalling the words of Paul Briggs, the true owner of the body Hohenheim had hijacked centuries ago.

_I hunted down and burned alchemists at the stake._

His father must have appreciated the irony in taking over the body of a witch hunter.

The left shoe abruptly tipped over and fell to the floor, causing Edward to leap backwards so suddenly he lost his balance and land hard on his backside. His eyes didn't seem to want to focus properly and after running a tongue over his dry lips, Edward realized his body was becoming dehydrated again, it's reaction to a lack of food and fluids. He needed to eat and drink something so he could think clearly.

Edward returned to the kitchen where he found a tin of day-old apple muffins in the bread box. They were still edible and he tore one into large chunks which he hastily chewed, but was unable to swallow. He got a glass from a cupboard next to the sink, filled it with warm water from the tap and drank most of it in one gulp to help wash the muffin down. By alternating bites of bakery with drinks of water, Edward ate all four of the remaining muffins.

He was swallowing the last of the water when the phone rang, it startled him so badly he jumped and dropped the glass, and it shattered in the sink. Gasping for breath, Edward whirled and looked at the phone, but it kept on shrilling, demanding to be answered. Haltingly, he walked over on stiff legs and picked up the receiver.

"Hallo?"


	9. Misdirection

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA, except any OCs I create for this story. I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile.

**Warning:** May contain movie spoilers. Already has contained character death and blood. Will eventually contain violence and possible sex.

**Beta: **Kittygirl109

_9. Misdirection _(Misdirection)

"Ah, hallo Edward, this is Fraulein Eckart, may I speak to your father, please?"

Edward went cold inside and he could feel the muffins he'd just eaten fighting to come up for air. He gulped hard and forced them back down before he tried to speak. "I'm sorry, Fraulein Eckart, but my father - father," Edward's eyes began to fill with tears and a few trickled down his cheeks as he fought for control. "Father - died. A few hours ago."

Eckart's voice never broke stride. "Ah, that is sad, very sad," she purred. "Just wait there and we will be along shortly to collect you, don't worry about a thing. The Thule Society will make all the necessary arrangements." She hung up and the line buzzed in his right ear. Edward glared at the receiver before he slammed it down on the cradle with such force the Bakelite broke into three pieces. He spun around to face the kitchen, his heart was pounding like a trip hammer.

_We will be along shortly to collect you._

Edward was starting to hyperventilate he was in such a panic. _Think, dammit! Think!_ He staggered back to the sink and turned on the tap to splash cold water on his face. It shocked his brain back into working and he began to think clearly again. All the curtains were still closed, even the one over the kitchen sink. Edward peeked out, it was still daylight, but the afternoon was well advanced. He looked at the clock. Three-fifteen p.m. It would start to get dark in just over an hour.

_Dark. Run. Hide._

He had to get out of here, out of this house, out of Munich, and out of Germany. Out of the reach of the Thule Society and the Nazis. Things clicked into place and wheels began to turn. Edward felt more engaged than he had in months. He ran from the kitchen, through the living room to the blanket chest where he yanked the top open with such force the hinges squealed in protest. He slipped on his fall jacket and zipped it up, then followed it with his long brown winter coat and buttoned it. Then Edward dug in the outer pockets for his leather gloves.

To his surprise, Edward found a train ticket in one pocket and he scanned it quickly. It was for a second-class compartment on the five o'clock express to Calais, France. Something was paper clipped to it's back. Edward flipped the ticket over to find a second-class steamship ticket from Calais to Dover, England. _This can't be right,_ he thought. _Something is wrong here, very wrong_.


	10. Escape

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA, I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile.

**Warning: **May contain movie spoilers

**Beta:** Kittygirl109

_10. Escape _(Entweichen)

It didn't make sense to him. The Nazis would expect them to flee west to England, so why would his father purchase tickets for the most obvious escape route? Edward slapped his forehead when he remembered:

_I will try to misdirect them so you at least can get away._

Acting on a hunch, Edward returned to the sofa and cautiously reached into the left pocket of his father's coat. There was the mate to his ticket, when the Thule Society came they would find this and go haring off in the wrong direction. Hohenheim's final gift to his son - a chance to escape. He would be a fool not to take it.

Edward heard the sound of car engines in the distance and they were approaching fast. The Thule Society was coming for him. He spun around and raced to the chest and grabbed out his suitcase then slammed the lid shut. No point in making it easy for them. After he pushed aside the heavy curtain over the back window aside, he unlocked and pushed the pane up. The old wood rattled and Edward recalled this window was loose and had a tendency to come slamming down without warning, he would have to be careful. After he tossed his suitcase out, Edward stepped out over the low sill. When only halfway out, he twisted back to pull the curtains closed again.

He'd just gotten his other leg out when the pane came down on a trailing end of his coast. Edward tried to push up so he could free himself but the sash wouldn't budge. The car engines had turned onto the street their house was on and Edward began to panic, and he pulled frantically on his coat with one hand, and tried to lift the sash with the other. But he was stuck fast and his panic rose higher when brakes squealed just in front of his house.

The angle was awkward, but Edward twisted his body even more and worked the fingers of both hands underneath a slim edge of the sash and pushed upwards as hard as he could. The sash resisted at first, then wood squealed as it rose up, perhaps a millimeter. While he held it up with one hand, Edward yanked the trapped material out with the other, tearing off a tiny scrap of brown. He let go and the sash loudly thumped down. Edward was certain the men now pounding on the front door had heard it.

His left hand was freezing and he blew on the fingers before pulling out his leather gloves and slipping them on. The ticket fell out and down to the snow. Edward reached out for it but a gust of wind grabbed it and sailed it out of his reach. A loud crash from inside the house told him his putative captors had kicked the front door open, but he needed that ticket! He made one final lunge and captured it and jammed it into a coat pocket before he grabbed his suitcase from a bank of snow which had blown against the house.

Lights snapped on inside and he heard someone calling him. "Edward? Edward? Where are you?" Then an order to someone "Check upstairs, he could be hiding up there!" And hurried footsteps followed by "Gott im himmel!" They had seen what was left of Hohenheim. Soon enough, someone would get the idea to check behind the heavy window curtains, so Edward turned and ran up one edge of the courtyard to the next street over.


	11. Project Shambala

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA, I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile.

**Summary:** post series, very AU. This drabble series supposes what happens if the movie events had happened somewhat differently.

**Warning:** May contain movie spoilers. Rating may change for future language, sexual situations, and violence.

_11. Project Shambala_ (Projekt Shambala)

Dietlinde Eckart sat like a queen in the idling touring car outside the Elric house and waited impatiently for Hess and his men to bring Edward out. On the seat opposite her, Dr. Stein was filling a syringe from an upended bottle of a clear liquid. The gullible doctor had already been briefed with a phony story about a young man who was so distressed by the sudden death of his father, he had taken temporary leave of his senses. The plan was to confine Edward to Dr. Stein's convalescent home a few miles outside of Berlin and gently nurse him back to health with rest and treament for his _delusions_.

What she hadn't told the good doctor was that drugs and hypnotic suggestion would actually be used to brainwash the 'Shambalan' into doing their bidding. Dietlinde had first-hand experience of Edward's obstinate attitude from pior meetings and he would not come quietly. But a dose of sedative from the steady hand of Dr. Stein would make him easier to handle. The good doctor pulled the needle from the bottle and capped it before he replaced the bottle in his black medical bag. Then he pulled out a bottle of alchohol and soaked a square of gauze with it. He looked expectantly towards the house when the front door slammed, but only a lone figure was seen coming out towards the car.

The back door shot open, which let in a burst of frigid air and a whirl of powdery snow. "Madame Eckart!" the speaker, one of Hess's minions thrust a rectangular piece of paper towards her. "We found this in Professor Hohenheim's coat pocket!"

Dietlinde frowned and squinted at the paper in the fading light. She pressed a hidden button and a ceiling light snapped on. _A sneaky bastard, that Hohenheim_,was her grim thought as she read the tickets,_ but not sneaky enough!_ She would soon have his son - and eventually his world - under her complete control. A loud shout was heard from within the house, and the front door burst open again. In her mind's eye, Dietlinde envisioned a small blond figure struggling in the grip of Hess's men. But they were alone, with a grim-faced Hess in the lead. The rear car door opened again and Hess clambered in while his men piled into another car parked next to Eckart's.

"He's gone, Madame Eckart, the little bastard gave us the slip!" Dr. Stein frowned at the cursing, he was a devout Methodist and a strict teetoler who never swore, much less raised his voice. Fraulein Eckart seemed to support his views for she scowled at Hess who was still turning the air blue.

"Language, Hess! How did he escape?" Hess glared at her for daring to interrupt him, but he did stop swearing.

"We couldn't find him anywhere in the house, not even the the attic. Some of the men were looking behind the window curtains and Horst looked out on the backyard and saw footprints in the snow. Then Klaus opened a blanket chest and found a suitcase and coat, they were Professor Hohenheim's. My guess is Edward is headed for the train station, and we can intercept him if we hurry."


	12. The Wily Mouse

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA, I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile.

**Summary:** Post series and very AU. Some movie events will happen, but differently.

**Warning:** possible movie spoilers, also bad language, violence, and perhaps sex.

_12. The Wily Mouse_ (Die Wily Maus)

His lungs burning, and sweating despite the cold, Edward slewed to a stop across the street from Munich's train station. It was a grand old nineteenth century pile and brightly lit all night because trains arrived and departed nearly around the clock. It had been a nerve wracking flight from his house to here, Edward had kept to alleys or back streets all the way, his heart racing every time a car engine was heard behind him. The street before him was busy with auto traffic, but no one car seemed to be screeching to a halt and disgorging large men in black trenchcoats to chase him.

Edward dug in his left coat pocket and found an old hankerchief, softened from repeated washings. He used it to dab the sweat off his face, it wouldn't do to look nervous in the station, he needed to blend in with the hundreds of other travellers. He stood up straight and transferred his suitcase from under his right arm to his left hand, took a deep breath and told himself, _Green means go, red means stop - green means GO!_

He walked quickly across the street, dodged one oncoming car and pushed against the great doors to the main hall of the station and once inside disappeared into the mass of surging humanity. Barely thirty seconds later, two large touring cars turned the corner and braked in open spots near the entrance. Hess's men poured out of the first car, and Hess himself stepped regally from the second before he turnedback to Dietlinde, "We will find him Fraulein, that I promise you."

For his part, Edward was being carried along by a swarm of travellers towards the platform which led towards trains which were bound for points south. Not until the crowd split between two seperate sets of of those was he finally able to break free and fight his way towards a ticket window. The line he found himself in seemed intermitable and he was close to giving up and using the Calais ticket when he heard something unusual: two men speaking in oddly accented English.

One man was complaining bitterly,:"Dammit, Mike! You got all the luck, the last ticket on tonight's express to Calais! Now I gotta cool my heels in this damn station all night - you ever been someplace so _noisy_? Man, I tell ya Mike, I can't _wait_ to get back to Wyoming! Even the middle of a herd of lowing cows is quieter than this!"

Mike was chuckling at his friend's discomfiture. "I feel your pain Steve, really I do. I'll wait for you in Portsmouth, I promise. I'm not sailing for home without the best saddle tramp in the whole west!"

_Wyoming? Saddle tramp? _ They must be Americans!

They were very near and about to pass so close by, Steve's long leather coat would brush against him. Edward made a snap decision.

"Excuse me - um, Steve?"


	13. The Net Begins To Close

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA, I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile.

**Warning: **These drabbles are post series, very AU and may contain movie spoilers. As well as bad language, violence, death, and maybe sex. Certainly crimes against proper grammar and punctuation!

_13. The net begins to close_ (Das netz fangst an zu Schieben)

Hearing his name spoken, Steve stopped and looked at the slight figure before him. He took in the long hair in a ponytail, the pale face, and the long brown coat which hung off the narrow shoulders.

He thought _This little fella could do with a few more meals._

"Excuse me," Edward said again. "I apologize for being for forwards, but I couldn't help overhearing." Not wanting to look him full in the face, he didn't quite meet Steve's eyes. "I have an extra ticket for the Calais express - it's non- refundable - and it's a shame to let it go to waste." Edward dug in his pocket and pulled out the slightly crumpled ticket, then held it up to Steve's eyes.

"Non-refundable, eh"? Steve was intrigued - yet suspicious. What was this kid doing wandering around the Munich train station on a school night? Where were his parents? The boy suddenly stiffened and looked back over his shoulder with golden eyes which seemed too large for his thin face. He looked frightened and Steve had this feeling the kid was in some kind of trouble. He used to get into scrapes when he was young too. He felt a twinge of sympathy and decided to help the kid.

"Okay kid, I'll bite." Steve snatched the ticket with a quick flick of his fingers, but to his surprise the boy looked relieved rather than dismayed. "Now, where's your parents - back there?"

He pointed back towards the entrance and Edward shot him a distinctly alarmed look. Steve could hear someone shouting in German near the entrance doors and he wondered if that was what spooked the kid.

"Has anyone seen this young man?!" Rudolph Hess held up a photo of Edward high in the air and moved it slowly back and forth in front of a rough semi-circle of on-lookers. "His father died very suddenly, and he was so distraught his father's friends feared for the poor fellow's sanity. They had him committed to an institution, but he recently escaped and we believe he is in this station."

"Is he dangerous?" asked a plump _hausfrau, who_anxiously cuddled two small boys.

Hess smiled warmly at her. "Only if he's cornered, madame. So if you see him, don't approach him. Just inform a station employee and we will handle everything."

One of Hess's men came up to him and whispered "It's all arranged, Herr Hess."

Rudoph nodded. Dr. Stein had been escorted to the station agent's office and once Elric was caught, he would be taken there to be sedated. Hess had sent two of his bigger men to the platform the Calais express would be leaving from. But just in case, station employees would be warned to be on the lookout for a small man with long blonde hair in a ponytail.

_No matter which direction the little fish swims in, he will soon be struggling in the net we have cast._


	14. Maximum Farce

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA, I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile.

**Warning:** May contain movie spoilers, as well as violence, death, and possible sex.

**Summary:** The Thule Society has discovered Edward and Hohenheim are from the other side of the Gate and want them to open a portal to their world. After his father dies from a fatal injury, Edward must flee alone. He's made it to the train station, but his pursuers are close behind.

_14. Maximum Farce_ (Maximale Farce)

The Calais Express was leaving in ten minutes from a platform on the other side of the Munich train station, so Steve and Mike ran all the way, weaving their way through knots of fellow travellers.

"Hey Mike!" Steve gasped after he bounced off a stout man who snapped at him in German to watch where he was going. "Don't it seem to you everyone else seems to be heading in the opposite direction we wanna go?"

Mike didn't answer right away because he was busy trying not to trip over a baby carriage as the pair made the turn around pillars marking the entrance to the platform. Neither noticed two large men in dark coats who were just standing there, Mike assumed they were waiting for one of the recent arrivals who were making their progress so difficult. In actuality, they were Hess's men, on the lookout for Edward. When Steve, who had longish blond hair and wore a brown leather coat trotted by, they could be forgiven for thinking they had their man.

Neither man had seen a color photo of Edward and they just had Hess's description to go on. But Steve Longworth, 6' 4" tall, muscular and broad shouldered, blonde and _blue_ eyed was not Edward Elric.

The two Nazis fell into position behind Steve and when he was briefly halted by a knot of people, each clapped meaty hands on his shoulders and upper arms.

"HEY!" Steve frowned at the two men who gave him sympathetic smiles in return. The one man who held his left shoulder, a dark haired fellow with cold green eyes said, "Come with us, Edward, don't try to resist."

"What the hell!?" Mike had seen what was happening and he turned back to help his friend. Two men had a hold of Steve and they were dragging - or rather, _trying_ to drag Steve away.

"It's all right, Edward," crooned the dark-haired man. "We understand you are upset, so Dr. Stein will just give you a little sedative and then you'll have a nice long nap."

"My name is Steve, not Edward, fellas. " Steve was trying to josh with the two Germans, but his blood was beginning to boil as he realized just what kind of trouble he had inherited.

_That little twerp!_

Meanwhile, the 'little twerp' had finally reached the head of the line at the ticket counter. Edward pushed a small pile of marks under the glass and politely requested a round-trip second class ticket on the last night train to Vienna. He was outwardly calm, but inside his nerves were jangling like fire alarms. He feared at any moment the feel of fingers clamping around an arm, and the sound of a voice asking, "Going somewhere, Edward?"

Despite the preoccupation with his fears, Edward dimly heard a commotion in the distance. A young man came running up to the ticket counter and shouted, "Call the police! A riot has broken out by the Calais Express!"


	15. Oh, Vienna

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own FMA, I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile.

**Warning:** may contain movie spoilers, plus violence, language and possibly sex.

**Author's note:** post series and very AU. Some movie events will happen, just very differently.

_15. Oh, Vienna!_ (OH - , wien)

His train ticket clutched firmly in hand, Edward pelted at full tilt down platform ten. A rush of people heading in the direction of the supposed "riot" had dragged him along for several yards before he could work his way free. And the conductor had shouted "all aboard!" for the night train to Vienna by the time he got to his platform.

The train had begun to move as he neared, fortunately the conductor had seen him and he shouted "come on, lad!" in encouragement. After he put the ticket between his teeth, Edward made a two-handed throw of his suitcase towards the conductor who caught it and set it behind him. The train was gathering speed and Edward was about to run out of platform as with one final lunge he leapt for the steps of the last coach.

One hand snagged a railing, but then his left foot slipped. Edward would have fallen beneath the wheels if not for the conductor seizing his flailing left arm and bodily hauling him aboard. His chest heaving, Edward clutched the railings for dear life and sucked air into his aching lungs. The train slid from the staion and began to chug through the rail yard, heading south towards the rails which would take it to Vienna. The cold wind grabbed at Edward's coat and sent it billowing behind him, and threatening to drag him off his perch. With a grunt of effort, he pulled his way up the steps and followed the conductor into the warmth of the coach.

They had entered a third-class coach, so Edward had a short hike before he came to the second-class cars. They were practically empty and he easily found a compartment. After he gave the conductor his ticket to punch, Edward was left in solitary splendor. He opened his suitcase and rummaged through the books in search of the one he'd been reading last night for a few moments, before he recalled it was still on the night stand next to his bed. _Damn_. Edward scowled briefly before he fished out a chemistry text he hadn't yet read. He closed and re-strapped the case, then settled back in his seat and opened the book's cover. Despite his circumstances, a small sigh of contentment escaped his lips.

Back in the station master's office, Steve rubbed fingers over his eyes and repeated himself for the umpteenth time. "My name is Steven Longworth, I'm an American and I work as a ranch hand in Daniel, Wyoming. I'm not Edward Elric, and I don't know who he is. Anyways, my dad is still alive and kickin'."

He glared at Captain Kesslar of the train station police force who gave him a poker-faced look in return. The captain had come on the scene of the supposed "riot" at platform twenty-one to find four injured men wearing Nazi insignia lying groaning on the concrete floor. Their fellows were surrounding two Americans who stood back to back and prepared to send more Nazis flying.

It was difficult to get a straight story from excited witnesses, but the gist was two of the Nazis had seized one man and were trying to drag him away when the other man came to his aid and _all Hell broke loose_. Captain Kesslar pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers. Those four words appeared to sum up very well what had happened, but he still could not put them in the official report he would have to write and deliver before he could go home tonight. "Bitte, Herr Longworth, please tell me what happened from the beginning. How did you come by this ticket?"


	16. The Hounds Cast About

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA, I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile.

**Warning:** may contain movie spoilers, also violence, blood, bad language and maybe sex.

**Author's note:** post series and _very_ AU; some movie events will happen, but differently.

**Summary:** Edward gives his Calais tickets to a traveller from America and makes good his escape from Germany. Meanwhile Steve and Jim are questioned by Captain Kessalar about the "riot" on platform 21. Will they inadvertantly put the Thule Society back on Edward's trail?

_16. The Hounds Cast About_ (Die Jagdhunde warfen ungefahr)

The door to the stationmaster's office opened and Steve's friend and travelling companion Jim Sims walked in, trailed by two station police sergeants. "Good news, Steve!" Jim burbled merrily, he had a knack for seeing the bright side of things. "They'll hold the Calis Express for half an hour, so if we can get this cleared up, we still could make it."

Captain Kesslar indicated a chair to the left of Steve. "Please have a seat, Herr...?"

"Sims, Jim Sims - from Montana." He extended one sinewy hand and shook the surprised Captain's with tremendous strength. "Me and Steve," the Captain winced at the poor grammar. "Are cattle punchers at a ranch in Wyoming."

A wild mental picture of the two slugging cows sprang up in the captain's mind. He pinched his eyes shut and shook his head as if to eject that picture out of his cranium.

"Herr Sims, your friend has told me what occured, but I would like your story."

"Oh, sure. We'd gotten to the station late and I got the last ticket for the Calais Express, so Steve here was raggin' about how he'd have to cool his heels here overnight when this kid comes up to us and offers Steve a spare ticket for the Express, and the channel ferry."

Captain Kesslar looked down at a picture of Edward, half-hidden underneath his hands, which Hess had given him. "Can you describe this boy?"

Jim screwed his eyes shut in thought for a moment, "Lessee, his head came to about here on me," Jim put the edge of his palm at the middle of his chest. "Blond hair, really long and tied in a ponytail. I thought it looked strange, but things are done differently here in Europe, so I didn't pay it much mind. His eye color really struck me as unusual - yellow - I've never seen anyone with yellow eyes before. I thought maybe he was jaundiced, 'cause he did look kinda sickly."

The captain cocked his head and asked "Really? Why do you believe he was sickly?"

"He was really thin and just about swimmin' in that brown coat he was wearin', like it was too big for him. If we hadn't been pressed for time, I would have offered to take him to the station cafe for a meal, he looked like he could use some feedin.' He looked scared too, and when Steve asked him where his parents were, he acted downright spooked." Jim paused for a moment before he asked in a half-joking manner, "Why are you after this kid anyways, did he rob a bank, or something?"

"Oh no, nothing so serious. He's just an escaped mental patient and it's important we find him."


	17. Dodged That Bullet

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA, I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile.

**Author's note:** post series and very AU; some movie events will happen, but differently.

**Warning:** May contain movie spoilers, as well as violence, blood, bad language, and maybe sex.

**Beta:** Kittygirl109

_17. Dodged That Bullet_ (Ausgewichen dieser Gewehrkugel)

The Calais Express left the city limits of Munich and began to chug it's way west across Germany towards France. Even with the half hour delay, Steve and Mike barely made the train, leaping on board in a similar fashion to the way Edward had done. After the pair dropped their suitcases in their respective sleeper compartments, they made their way to the dining car for a late supper. Then they repaired to the smoking car.

"Hey Steve," Jim asked while his friend lit up a small dark brown cigar. "Do you believe Kesslar's story about Elric bein' a mental patient? He sounded convincin', but something ain't addin' up."

Once his cigar was drawing well, Steve handed the lighter to his friend before he sat back and took a slow drag, then blew smoke rings towards the roof of the car. He didn't speak until the last ring began to dissipate. "Kesslar was lyin', Jimbo. Cause if he really was crazy, guys in white coats and carryin' big nets would be after him, not Nazis. That kid was _scared_ and I just wonder what he did to get those Krauts all riled up."

Jim had lit his own hand-rolled cigarette by now and he blew his own set of smoke rings before he replied,. " I wouldn't wish Nazis on my worst enemy, cause those bastards are gonna be trouble in the future, Steve, mark my words. I sure hope Edward gets away."

"Me too," Steve nodded. "That makes two of us."

* * *

Captain Kesslar's men had fanned out all over the station to question the ticket sellers, and managers of the various kiosks which sold newspapers and other items to travelers. No one one recalled seeing a slight young man with long blonde hair in a ponytail - until a ticket seller near platform five. Unfortunately for Kesslar, she couldn't remember for what destination, nor even what platform he'd headed for. She sold so many tickets each day faces just blurred together. But Kesslar gave her a spare picture of Edward anyways, just in case something jogged her memory. 

For tonight, he'd had to admit defeat and he returned to the station master's office to report the failure of their search. Hess was also in the office, and with him was a woman with light brunette hair wearing a fashionable skirt suit, plus a dignified-looking older man with a pince-nez screwed into one eye socket. The station master, Herr Braun, leaned back in his big wooden chair and rubbed his chin while saying "Hmmmm..." He abruptly sat back upright and handed Kesslar a sheet of paper printed on both sides.

"Here is a timetable Captain Kesslar, use it to find out which trains have left in the last two hours from platforms one through ten for a start. If your quarry purchased his ticket at Fraulein Kehrmeyer's window, it's entirely reasonable he took a train leaving from a conveneintly nearby platform. Show Elric's picture to all the guards at each platform, and if no one remembers him, then repeat the process at platforms eleven through twenty."

"Ja wohl!" Captain Kesslar clicked his heels and bowed to Herr Braun, then to Hess and his two companions. His back held ramrod straight, he left the office without a backward glance, but with an uneasy feeling in his stomach. If a high-ranking Nazi was involved in the search, it didn't bode well for this Edward Elric.


	18. Decision Point

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA, I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile.

**Author's note:** Post series and very AU. Some movie events will happen, just differently

**Warning:** Some movie spoilers, also violence, blood, death, and maybe sex.

**Beta**: Kittygirl109

_18. Decision Point_ (Entschiedungspunkt)

Edward's stomach began to niggle at him after an hour or so of reading, and it was with a sigh he replaced the book in his suitcase and left his compartment in search of the dining car. It was three cars up and he got there just in time to get a roast beef sandwich and a bottle of beer. Since the car was about to close, Edward took his purchases back to his compartment.. He pulled down a small table which was built into a wall of the car and sat down, but he didn't feel comfortable. Edward got up again and pulled the shades, both on the outside windows, and the ones looking out onto the corridor. Finally, he locked the door and at last feeling secure, he was able to enjoy his little snack.

While he thoughtfully chewed and swallowed the sandwich, thin slices of roast beef between slabs of thick bread spread with stone ground mustard, Edward mulled over his choices once the train arrived in Vienna. _What direction shall I go?_ He could make a jog east and still go to France, or dive south west to Spain. He could also keep going straight south to Italy, or go south east to Turkey. Edward took a sip of his beer then put his head back and closed his eyes. _Choices, choices._

He decided to flip a coin in the end and dug into his coat pockets, eventually coming up with a ten pfenning piece. Edward looked closely at it and his eyes misted over. He'd gotten this coin only last week, his father had been preparing guides for his students who would soon begin their studying for finals and they hadn't had time to go home for lunch. Hohenheim had given Edward a few marks and told him to run to a sandwich shop across the road from the University and buy some sandwiches and drinks. The ten pfenning piece had been mixed in among the change and somehow his fingers had missed it when they deposited the rest of the coins on Hohenheim's desk.

Edward looked hard at the coin in his palm. _Okay - heads, I go south. Tails - I go east. __Not west, that is still too risky. _He flipped the coin into the air and it seemed to just hang there for longer than normal, spinning and reflecting in the compartment lights. It smacked back onto his hand with a solid _thunk_, and Edward turned it into his metal palm without looking.

_Heads. South it is then._

Now he had another decision to make. _Heads, I go straight south. Tails - I go south east or south west._ Edward repeated the maneuver and the coin came up _Tails. _

_Third time's the charm. Heads - south west. Tails - south east._ He flipped the coin for the third time.

_Tails._

When a wave of weariness crashed against his mind, Edward looked at his watch. It was nearly eight o'clock, he'd been awake for nearly twelve hours but his nap on the kitchen floor didn't count as he'd cried himself to sleep. He unzipped his fall jacket and wadded it up to serve as a makeshift pillow, and after pushing the table back into the wall, he carefully set his plate and the empty beer bottle where they wouldn't be accidentally stepped on. He did the same with his shoes after taking them off, then settled himself on the bench seat and used his coat as a blanket. Edward reached up to the wall switch and turned off the light before he lay back down and tried to make himself comfortable on the thin leather covering over wood.


	19. The Chase Is On

**The Waters Of Lethe**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own FMA, I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile.

**Author's note: **Post-series and very AU. Some movie events will happen, just not exactly as they did in the film.

**Warning: **May contain movie spoilers, also bad language, blood, violence, death and maybe sex.

**Summary: **Thanks to the distraction caused by the "riot", Edward has escaped detection and successfully fled from Munich to Vienna. But the reach of the Nazi Party is long, and Edward isn't out of the woods yet.

**Beta:** Kittygirl109

_19. The Chase Is On_

When he returned to work at six the next morning, Captain Kesslar finally got a piece of good news. A guard on platform ten remembered seeing a young man with long blond hair in a ponytail, and wearing a brown coat running to catch the last night train to Vienna. "He barely made it, Herr Captain," the guard recalled with a chuckle. "I really thought he had no chance but somehow he caught up and made the steps of the last car just before he ran out of platform. I won't soon forget determination like that!"

The Captain thanked him and walked quickly back to the station master's office to place two quick phone calls. First to Hess to tell him Elric had been seen boarding a train to Vienna, followed by a long-distance call to the main Vienna train station. Kesslar gave them a detailed description of Edward, the reason he was wanted and he also promised to wire them a current photograph of the young man. After a quick visit to the wire services office, he went back to his desk at the station police headquarters feeling very virtuous.

In the Munich headquarters of the Thule Society, Rudolph Hess made a phone call of his own, first to Nazi sympathizers in Vienna, who he ordered to get a couple of men over to the train station quickly. But he hesitated before calling Fraulein Eckart, she didn't rise before seven, and she didn't take kindly to being disturbed prior to that hour. So he set the receiver back onto it's cradle and cupped his chin in one hand, while he drummed the fingers of the other on his desk. He sighed once, and fantasized about Shambala...

Unfortunately for the two Nazis who raced to the Vienna station, the night train from Munich had pulled in ahead of schedule. While they searched the mostly emptied train, Edward was already at a ticket window, purchasing passage to his next destination: Milan, Italy. After disembarking from the train, Edward had decided to go south a little further before he struck east. Plus, breaking his journey into shorter legs would attract less attention

After he purchased his ticket, Edward had some time to kill before his train departed at eight, so he left the station and found a cafe which had just opened for the day. He ordered a mug of black coffee, and a croissant, Then he sat down at a table nearest the counter and flipped the pages of a day old newspaper in a desultory fashion. When his order was brought by a waitress, Edward dropped three lumps of sugar into the coffee and stirred it slowly, but his mind was elsewhere.


	20. A Change Of Direction

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own FMA, I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile.

**Author's note:** Post-series and very AU, these drabbles are rated for violence, blood, death, probably bad language, and maybe sex. Some movie events will happen, just not the same way they did in the movie

**Warning: **may contain movie spoilers

**Summary:** It's been less than 24 hours since Edward found his father dying on the sofa in their Munich home. After he gave his ticket on the Calais Express to an American cowboy, Edward successfully slipped away to Vienna, but the Thule Society is back on the scent...

**Beta: **Kittygirl109

_20. A change of direction_ (Eine anderung der Richtung)

After an interval of wakefulness, Edward had managed to fall asleep on the train, but his slumber had been troubled by a vivid dream of a dark-skinned man. Edward dreamed he was walking through a long corridor which was fitfully lit by flaring torches, towards a man sitting upon a huge throne. The man's face was obscured by a golden mask and he held a golden staff in one hand. As Edward drew closer, the man held out his other hand. Nestled on its palm was a softly glowing red object - the Philosopher's Stone.

The man seemed to be offering him the stone, and Edward reached out to take it. But the instant their fingers touched, a spark leapt between them and he was suddenly paralyzed. Pictures raced through his mind, the images coming so fast and furious Edward's mind couldn't process them. It reminded him of the night of the failed transmutation when the Gate had crammed his head with so much information he thought it would burst. Then to his horror, the golden mask began to _dissolve_ and the molten gold ran down like tears to reveal a staring purple eye floating in a sea of blackness.

Edward jerked back when the eye suddenly rushed towards him and he felt himself falling...falling...

He cried out wildly and came to just as he rolled off the compartment seat and hit the floor with a bone-jarring thud. Trembling and gasping, Edward sat up in the near darkness with sweat pouring down his face. Gradually the waking world became clearer to him - the rocking of the train car, the _clickity-clack_ of the wheels, and the forlorn cry of the locomotive's whistle - as the dream images began to fade.

At his table in the cafe, Edward stared into his cooling coffee as he tried to recall the dream. The images were no longer clear, but the disturbing _feeling_ they had given him was. Dreams were merely messages from the subconscious mind and weren't meant to be taken literally, but maybe...just maybe this one was trying to tell him something. He lifted the mug to his lips and sipped, the coffee slipped down his throat and warmed his insides. It tasted so good, he dipped his croissant into the steaming liquid before he ate.

_Don't go to Turkey, take...another direction..._

Just after seven, Edward re-crossed the road to the station and entered. He didn't notice the two men following him until he'd paused to consult the departure board for the platform number his train would be leaving from. Edward repeated the number, softly under his breath a few times till he memorized it and he'd just turned away when a hand clamped tightly around his left arm.

"Edward Elric?" His mind still on the next stage of his flight, Edward blinked and looked up. What he saw gave him a cold, sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.


	21. Trapped

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own FMA, I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile

**Author's note:** post series and very AU. Some movie events will happen, but differently

**Warning:** May contain movie spoilers, violence, blood, death, bad language, and possibly sex.

_21. Trapped_ (Eingeschlossen)

Edward tried to brazen his way out the situation he was in, "I'm terribly sorry, but my name is Bauer, Edward Bauer, and I'm a Swiss citizen. You have the wrong man, good morning!" He twisted his arm out of the man's hand and started to walk away. Only to be brought up short when the man grabbed his ponytail and yanked it - hard.

"You are lying," the man, in the uniform of the Vienna train station police took a fresh hold of Edwar's left arm as another uniformed policeman grabbed Edward's right arm in a firm grasp. He held up a sheet of paper with a black and white photo on it, and Edward's blood ran cold. "You are Edward Elric, and a little bird in Munich told me you ran away from an insane asylum. But your running is over, and you will come with us now."

Feeling numb with shock, Edward dropped his suitcase and dug in his heels, "No, please! You have the wrong man, sir! This is a terrible mistake!" He was babbling as he skated close to the edge of an all-out panic. Edward started to struggle in earnest, but he couldn't shift the grip of the two policemen. At an unspoken signal, they yanked him off his feet and he found himself kicking ineffectually.

"Where are you taking me?" he cried, his voice hitching upwards with hysteria. Edward got his answer a few minutes later as he was partially carried, and partially dragged into the stationmaster's office. A third man, grey-haired and austere, and dressed in a dark suit got up from his seat at a desk.

"Hmph!" he said after perhaps thirty seconds of peering into Edward's face. "He doesn't _look_ dangerous to me, what to you think, Captain Braun?"

Captain Braun, the man who had first grabbed Edward, shrugged. "I just know what Kesslar in Munich told me. He doesn't seem like a dangerous lunatic to me, but looks can be deceiving."

"All right then," the grey-haired man paused as if to collect his thoughts. "Put him in the back room and let him cool his heels for awhile. The door has a good, strong lock on it and he'll be secure untill that Dr. Stein comes to collect him."

"NO!" Edward shouted, in a desperate appeal to the stationmaster. "I'm not the man you're looking for! Please, sir! You have to believe me!" He yanked and twisted as hard as he could, but it ws like steel bands were holding his arms. The trio crossed the room towards a plain wooden door which stood ajar, Edward was thrust into a small room beyond it, which was barren except for a table and two chairs.

Once his arms were released, Edward whirled around and he tried to dart between Captain Braun and the other man. Only to go reeling backwards when his suitcase hit him in his face. He lost his balance and fell hard on the floor. He sat there, winded and looked up at Braun.

"You behave yourself now, or I'll call the station doctor to give you something to calm you down," Edward must have given him a suitably horrified look, because Braun smiled and added, "There's a good little nutcase, just be quiet and don't give us anymore trouble."


	22. Gamble

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA, I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile

**Author's note:** post series, and very AU. Some movie events will happen, just differently

**Warning:** May contain movie spoilers, also blood, violence, death, bad language, and maybe sex

_22. Gamble_

The door slammed with a sound of finality and the lock clicked. Edward rolled back to his feet and he went right to the door and experimentally tried the knob. But it was securely locked, and the door was quite solid. He sighed, and walked back to the table, then pulled out one of the chairs and sat down. There was a clock right above the door and Edward sighed again when he saw the time: _7:15_. His world had been blown to shreds in just under twenty minutes by one suspicious policeman. He didn't know who this "Doctor Stein" was, but it didn't sound good.

The noises from the outer office: footsteps, voices, chairs scraping on the floor, and typewriter keys clicking, gradually faded into random sounds as the minutes ticked away. Edward had put his arms down flat on the table, one hand clasping the opposite wrist, then he laid his head down upon them. He closed his eyes for awhile, then flicked one open to glance at the clock: _7:45_ He would miss his train to Milan. And labeled "insane" he would be back in Germany by tonight. A stray thought informed him that twenty-four hours ago, he had been sound asleep in his own bed.

Edward's ears pricked when the door knob suddenly rattled and he heard the sound of a key sliding into a lock. His other eye opened when the door abruptly swung open and a man in a faded pair of blue overalls entered, pulling a wheeled cart behind him. _Janitor._ Edward's mind helpfully supplied the word. The man seemed to be quite old, his hair was pure white and his back was slightly bent. He was humming to himself, apparently not realizing Edward was also in the room. A plan began to take shape in the younger man's head.

Very slowly and quietly, Edward got up and cautiously put his chair back into place, then he bent to pick up his suitcase. His heart in his mouth, he began to edge around the far end of the table. The janitor's head was still down, his gaze fixed at the floor while he mauevered his cart of cleaning supplies into the room. Edward contnued to creep along to his right until he was almost behind the door. He could hear his heartbeat hammering in his ears.

_The old man must be deaf. Perhaps he has poor eyesight too. I hope._

Edward crept to the open doorway and looked into the outer office. It was quite empty of people. Unable to believe his luck, Edward walked quietly and quickly towards the doorway which stood between him and freedom. He had just reached for the knob when approaching voices warned him to get back. Edward flattened himself against the wall behind the door just in time as the door shot open.

"Ach!" ones of the voices exclaimed. "Herr Machus isn't in! He probably walking around the station, looking for the slightest thing out of place. That man is so detail oriented! We'll try again in half an hour, he should be back by then."

The door closed, and Edward released the breath he had been holding. He waited until the voices faded away before he cautiously opened the door and peeked out. The coast looked clear of both Herr Machus, and any station police, so he left the office with a firm step, and closed the door behind him. His shoulders were hunched nervously, but no shouts of "Stop that man!" were heard. Edward kept walking forward until he was engulfed in a crowd of morning travellers. He was free again.


	23. Flight

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA. I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile

**Author's note:**post series and very AU. Some movie events will happen, just differently

**Warning:** movie spoilers, plus violence, blood, death, bad language, and maybe sex.

**Beta: **Kittygirl109

_23. Flight_ (Flug)

Edward and Captain Braun passed within only a few feet of each other, but the former was hidden in the press of mostly taller travellers, and wasn't seen. Edward walked steadily and calmly, he was determined not to do anything which would call attention to himself. He still broke a sweat when the conductor of the Milan train shouted, "All aboard!", but he had a few minutes to spare this time and boarded without having to sprint the length of a station platform.

This train was far more crowded, it seemed everyone and his brother was headed for the warmer climes of southern Italy, so Edward had more trouble finding space in a compartment. He eventually found a half empty one in the last second class car, just as the train started to roll out of the station. Edward had just pushed his suitcase onto the overhead luggage rack when the conductor came down the corridor, calling "Tickets, please!" When he reached the compartment Edward was in, he gave his up with a smile to be punched and handed back to him.

He sank back into his seat and let the tension ease out of his body. He had escaped and now he was on a train which was taking him further and further from Germany with each _clickety-clack_ of the wheels. Even when the restless children of the Austrian family who shared the compartment roughly jostled him, Edward was able to give their parents a patient smile and reassuring words. "It's quite all right, they aren't bothering me." He closed his eyes and sighed with relief.

Meanwhile, back in Vienna...

The situation wasn't quite so happy. Herr Machus nearly had a stroke when he returned to his office and discovered the door to the back room wide open and his detainee gone. Old Hermann, the janitor, couldn't understand what all the fuss was about, he hadn't seen anyone else. Nor did he appreciate it when Captain Braun returned and began shouting profanities at the top of his lungs. Braun got right on the phone to call every member of his force and order them to search the station top to bottom for a young man with long blond hair in a ponytail.

Hope died hard, but it eventually expired in Captain Braun's breast as officer after officer phoned in to report no sightings. It was if that crazy German had vanished like smoke. He was still fuming, and glaring at the phone when the outer office door opened. A soft voice coughed poliltely, and said, "Excuse me?"

Captain Braun looked up from his desk to see a middle-aged man of roughly average height with short-cropped brown hair, and a goatee. The hair was greying at the temples, and there were some silvery strands in the goatee as well. The man wore a plain brown wool coat over a neat dark blue suit with white pinstripes. He stood just inside the doorway, and behind him were two of the biggest men Braun had ever seen. Both of them were bareheaded with short buzzcut hair, they wore dark trenchcoats over white shirts and pants.

To the questioning wiggle of Braun's eyebrows, the man removed a soft brown fedora from his head and said, "I am Doctor Theophilus Stein, director of the Angelika Convalescent and Nursing Home near Berlin. These gentleman are Klaus and Bruno," he acknowledged both with a wave of his hat. "They are two of my best nurses. We have come to fetch Edward Elric, I understand you have him in custody?"


	24. In The Land

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA, I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile

**Author's note: **Post series and very AU. Some movie events will happen, but differently

**Warning:** Movie spoilers, plus violence, death, bad language, and maybe sex.

**Beta: **Kittygirl109

_24. In The Land of Dust and Secrets_ (Im Land des Staubes und der Geheimnisse)

Doctor Stein frowned when informed Edward had gotten away, and Captain Braun almost felt bad for disappointing the good doctor. "This young man has gained a small reputation as an escape artist. This is the second time he has slipped away after someone assured me he was well in hand.

Captain Braun made an exasperated sound deep in his throat, and he began to say, "It was a freak incident, someone who didn't know -" But Doctor Stein held up his hands in a placating gesture.

"I quite understand you, Captain, but I am worried about Herr Elric. I have seen only a photograph of him, but even from that it is evident he is in poor physical, as well as mental shape. I am most anxious to get him back to the Angelika and begin his treatments as soon as possible. Each passing day without medical care means he is slipping further and further into his delusion someone killed his father and now means him harm."

_Two weeks later..._

Edward leaned against the concrete railing of the balcony outside his small apartment and tilted his face up to better soak in the Egyptian sun. It was _hot_ here in Cairo - not as hot as Risembool could get - but hot enough to make him forget the chill of Munich. The quarter of Cairo where he now resided was also very noisy. The air was full of the bleats of sheep and goats, whinniies of horses, barking of dogs, and most insistently, the babble of human voices in many languages. He stayed motionless and let the sounds wash over him.

Now he felt safe from pursuit, Edward could relax a bit, and indulge his curiosity. Egypt was an ancient country, with civilization rising upon civilization, each with it's own long-forgotten secrets. _Secrets are the dust of centuries_, Hohenheim used to tell him. Edward had spent many hours in the Cairo library, reading decades old books about alchemy. Books with crumbling, worm hole- riddled pages barely contained inside cracked leather covers, the bindings loosened with age. Some of the secrets of this world's alchemy were still beyond his grasp, but he felt he was very close to discovering if people in this world had been aware of his world.

_Secrets are the dust of centuries._

Edward lived simply, but the question of how long his money would hold out niggled at the back of his mind. It niggled so much, he had made discreet enquiries at the famous Shepheard's Hotel. From there he had been directed to an employment agency with catered only to Europeans. Barely a week later, Edward had been offered a position as tutor to the children of an amateur English archealogist. The family would be arriving for the winter digging season in a few weeks, and the pay was reasonable. Plus, he would get room and board in the man's house near the Valley of the Kings.

Edward started as a loud call was heard from high above. A _muzzein_ in a tower was calling the Muslim faithful to one of their daily prayer sessions. He blew a loud sigh and let the tension bleed away again as he turned his face back up to the Egyptian sun, the star the Pharaohs had worshipped as _Ra_.


	25. Up The Nile

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer: ** I don't own FMA, except for any OCs I've created for this story. I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile.

**Author's note: ** post series and very AU. Some movie events may happen, but differently.

**Warning: ** For movie spoilers, violence, blood, death, and possibly sex.

_25. Up The Nile_ (Herauf den Nil)

Edward met his new employer and his family for afternoon tea at Shepheard's Hotel just after the beginning of January. Major Arthur Howard was the middle son of a Duke Something-Or-Other, and he had recently retired from an honorable, if not scintillating Army career after his father died. His older brother inherited a ramshackle estate, and his younger brother was a curate in some little village. Determined not to end up like his brothers, Arthur had taken up the trendy hobby of archealogy and was bent on a spot of "messing about in tombs."

He had a respectable wife, June, who could best be described as resembling a well-bred horse, and two rambunctious children. The fraternal twins, April and Patrick at fifteen fortunately took after their father in the looks department. Also in the party was Miss Childers, a poor and distant relation of June's who filled the function of "companion". Edward inclined his head politely and said "hello" as each was introduced to him, but he otherwise kept his mouth shut and concentrated his energies on observing.

As the Major droned on about his family, Edward gathered there was a lot of emotional baggage floating about the adults, so he promptly made up his mind to keep his distance outside of work. But he couldn't help feeling a twinge of sympathy for Miss Childers who sat with her head bowed, and her hands folded in her lap. She spoke only to June, and then only when first spoken to. Edward suspected Mrs. Howard enjoyed bullying the younger woman, for she never addressed her by her first name, only as Childers. And that was expressed in a very condescending tone.

They parted company soon after tea, Edward returned to his lodgings to pack his bags and inform his landlord to sublet his apartment. The Howards went upstairs to their rooms at Shepheard's to rest out of the hot afternoon sun. Arthur felt very pleased with the candidate the agency had sent. His hair was too long, his accent was definately not Swiss, and he looked as though a stiff breeze would blow him away. But on the good side, the young man with the queer yellow eyes had nice manners, he spoke Arabic well enough, and best of all, he seemed to know his _place_.

When the Howard's large touring car, luggage piled high on it's roof, pulled up to the steamer company docks before dawn the next morning, Edward was already there with his one suitcase. He stood up, bowed and greeted Major Howard and his family, then stood aside to let them and the other first-class passengers precede him up the gangplank. When Edward was finanlly allowed to board with the other second, and third-class passengers, it was with a rueful grin on his face. He'd never been a mere _employee_ and looked down upon like this.

As the steamer pulled away from the dock to begin the journey to Luxor, Edward leaned against the railing and watched the sun rise, turning the sky from purple to red, then gold. His left hand rose of its own volition to slap a mosquito which had bitten his cheek, then he sighed. This new situation would take some getting used to.


	26. Routine Ending

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer: ** I don't own FMA, only the OCs I've created for this story. I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile.

**Author's note:** post series and very AU. Some movie events may happen, but differently.

**Warning: **may contain movie spoilers, also violence, blood, death, and possibly sex.

_26. Routine Ending_ (Routineende)

_early March,1928_

In the next two months, Edward's life settled into a kind of routine. He would arise soon after dawn and dress, then breakfast with the staff in the kitchen, before he presented himself at the door to the Major's study to discuss the day's lesson plans for the twins. Howard wanted them to learn the usual public school subjects: maths, grammar, English history, geography, and Latin. This was usually no problem for Edward, the subjects - even Latin - were mere child's play for him. But Edward wanted to add subjects more germane, like Egyptian history, and Arabic. Howard grudgingly allowed the first, although he didn't see the use. But he puffed out his walrus mustache and absolutely refused to let his children learn Arabic.

Edward was dismayed by the Major's attitude, and it especially bothered him the Major had ordered him not to teach April anything more difficult then basic math, no algebra or calculus. The first time he broached the subject, Edward had nearly gotten his head torn off. April, Howard had icily informed him, was to grow up a proper English lady, not one of those "demmed suffragette bluestockings!". Edward bit back the sarcastic reply he'd planned to say, bowed his head, and conceded defeat. But it saddened him to realize April would not be allowed to use her magnificent mind for anything more strenuous then snagging a wealthy and titled husband.

About seven-thirty am, Edward would go to the schoolroom to prepare for the day's lessons, which lasted from roughly eight till noon. After he and the children had lunched, he had to take them to Major Howard's dig site in the Valley of the Kings. While on the way, Edward would ride his donkey next to April's while Patrick urged his forward so he could try out his Arabic on the huge Egyptian who accompanied them as a sort of "bodyguard". The twins begged him to teach them the language, and Edward had disobeyed the Major's orders. Not once, but twice.

He also surreptitiously tutored April in the forbidden math subjects, plus the fundamentals of trigonometry and geometry. Edward had to do it on the sly because Patrick also disapproved of women learning too much, on the grounds they would forget their _place_. He would just smile when the boy pontificated because the simple truth was, April was the smarter of the pair. Not that Edward was going to burst Patrick's bubble of male superiority, doing that might get him sacked.

The dig site would be a hive of activity with lines of men wielding pick and shovel, or bringing out endless bucket fulls of refuse from the minor tomb which had been discovered. Inside, the first antechamber had just been cleared, and he could hear the Major's booming voice as he pointed to and read (incorrectly) the hieroglyphics painted on the walls. Edward had learned to read the ancient language quickly, and he had a hard time suppressing a smile at the way Major Howard mangled it. Today's victims, er, visitors were a German archealogist and his assistant, who were also working hard to keep their poker faces from slipping.

Edward didn't like the way the latter man, a tall fellow with a face heavily pockmarked face was looking at him. But he had his secondary job duties to perform: sketching the tomb paintings and hieroglyphs. After a worker brought him a camp stool, he thanked the man and sat down. He dug in a rucksack he'd brought with him for his sketchpad, lap board, and drawing pencils. As Edward began to to make a preliminary sketch, even Major Howard's loud voice faded away - he'd never lost his ability to focus - and he eventually forgot he wasn't alone. The scarred man had slipped back inside the tomb, and he dropped a heavy hand on Edward's shoulder before he said, in German: "Hallo, Shambalan."


	27. Cornered

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own FMA, just the original characters I've created for this story. I also just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile.

**Author's note: **Post series, and very AU. Some movie events may happen, but differently.

**Warning: **May also contain movie spoilers, bad language, violence, blood, death, and maybe sex.

**Summary: **Edward has escaped certain capture twice, and he's made it to Cairo where he is employed by a Major Howard to tutor his children. His life has settled into a somewhat pleasant routine and he's let his guard down. Big mistake.

_27. Cornered_ (In Verlegenheit gebracht)

Edward uttered a startled yelp and jumped a few inches off the seat of the camp stool. The air in the tomb had suddenly become very thick and hard to breathe as sketchpad and pencil fell from fingers gone numb with shock. He gulped hard and gasped out, "Wha - what did you call me?"

The hand remained on his shoulder, and the fingers of othe scarred man tightened their grip. He bent down and whispered right into Edward's left ear. "I said _'hallo'_, Shambalan. Don't be such a stranger."

A low-pitched moan of fear escaped Edward's throat and his breathing quickened as he started to hyperventilate. "I - I don't know what you are talking about, I - um, think you have the wrong man."

"You are lying, Shambalan." The scarred man dug his fingers even harder into Edward's right shoulder, and he flinched away from the pain. He licked his lips nervously, and tried to swallow, but his mouth seemed lined with cotton, and it stubbornly remained dry. He had a strong urge to jump up and run, but his knees wouldn't obey his brain's commands to unlock and let him stand.

"Do you recognize this, Shambalan?" The scarred man growled as he stuck the underside of his left arm into Edward's line of vision. The tattoo on the arm was a symbol Edward knew all too well, the crest of the Thule Society. "I stayed in the shadows at the Society's meetings because I was ashamed of my scarred face, but I remember you and your father very well. I thought you were happy with us, and I was very surprised to hear you had run away."

A white noise began to roar in Edward's ears and tried to push the man's arm away as spots danced in his vision. He tried again to shrug off the man's hand, but it didn't let go, and Edward stammered as panic took over, "I - I said I don't know what you are talking about...leave...me...alone! You've got the...wrong...mmm...man. Now...let...go...please!"

He finally wrenched the scarred man's hand off his shoulder and stood up quickly, overbalanced,and nearly fell. Edward caught himself in time, then bent and tried to pick up his dropped drawing tools, but his hands closed on empty air.

_Air! I need air!_

**Author's note #2** : I've gottten loads of fresh reviews in the past couple of weeks. I thank all who have taken the time to review, and also request you keep 'em coming!


	28. Found Out

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own FMA, just the original characters I've created. I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile.

**Author's note: **Post series and very AU. Some movie events may happen, but differently.

**Warning: **May contain movie spoilers, also bad language, violence, blood, death and possibly sex.

_28. Found Out_ (Fand heraus)

In his panic, Edward forgot about picking up the things he'd dropped. And in his rush to get away. he fell to his knees when he tripped over the camp stool which had somehow fallen over. Edward quickly scrambled to his feet, but they were slow to move him forward. He had taken only a few stumbling steps, more sideways than anything when the tomb antechamber abruptly tilted and the floor rushed up to strike the side of his head.

_"...he's starting to come 'round..."_

The voice came from very far above him as the world slowly came back into focus. Edward heard a voice in heavily accented English say, "Rudolf says he was examining an inscription in the tomb's entrance when he heard a noise. He looked into the antechamber and saw your artist fellow staggering about before he fell on the floor and lay still."

A second voice, which Edward recognized as that of Major Howard's _reis_ next spoke up. "Sahib, it may have been stale air which caused this. See? The fresher air is reviving him."

Edward blinked several times before he cautiously opened his eyes. He was laying on a cot under a canvas canopy which sheltered him from the hot afternoon sun. A cool breeze that fanned his right cheek came from a small reed fan wielded by the reis's youngest son. Edward smiled at him and mumured his thanks in Arabic which made the boy's face split in a wide gap-toothed grin. Major Howard was sitting on a camp stool nearby while he looked through Edward's sketchbook. He glanced over as Edward slowly sat up on the cot. "Excellent work as usual, Bauer, but I think that's enough for you today. Go back to the house after you've rested a bit."

"Thank you - sir." Edward mumbled as he accepted a glass of water pressed into his hand by April. She smiled at him, then patted his right knee and said, "Dr. Schwinghammer has graciously offered the use of his motorcar to take you home, Mr. Edward. You look too woozy to ride a don - FATHER! Mr. Bauer has fainted again!"

Edward awoke to the feeling of movement and the sound of an engine. He opened his eyes to narrow slits and tried to keep his respiration even while he surveyed his surroundings. Someone had propped him with pillows into a half-reclining position on the back seat of a large touring car with very stiff springs. He grunted when one wheel dipped into a pothole and a now familiar voice spoke quietly, "Ah, you are finally awake, Shambalan."

"Stop calling me that!" Edward growled out the side of his mouth and he fully opened his eyes to glare at the man he now knew as Dr. Schwinghammer's assistant, Rudolf. "It sounds idiotic."

Rudolf's wolfish smile widened even further and it made Edward very nervous. "Deny it all you want, but I know you are from that world. I truly believe it was fate which led our paths to cross. Madame Eckart has been so very worried, and we've been searching all of Europe for you. How happy she will be to discover your whereabouts."


	29. Fever

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own FMA, just the original characters I've created. I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile.

**Author's note: **Post series and very AU. Some movie events might happen, but differently

**Warning: **may contain movie spoilers, also bad language, violence, blood, death and maybe sex.

_29. Fever_ (Fieber)

Edward must have gone quite pale because Rudolf's scarred face suddenly took on a look of concern and the light in his brown eyes softened. "Do you feel unwell, Shambalan? If you can hang on just a few minutes longer, we are almost to Major Howard's house."

The car turned off the main road and onto a circular driveway, before it pulled to a stop in front of the house. "No, I can't get out here," gasped Edward, Lady Howard would have a major fit if he commited such a faux pas. "I am only an employee and must enter the house at the back."

The driver must have heard him because he put the car back into gear and drove on to a short service road which curved around to the back of the house. Edward didn't really want Rudolf to touch him because the man made his skin crawl, but his legs trembled so badly when he got up. He would have fallen out of the car if not for Rudolf's help. One of the male servants - Edward recognized him as Daoud - came out to investigate the strange auto. He rushed forward to help when he saw Edward as Rudolf explained, "Herr Bauer became unwell at the dig site and he needs to go straight to bed."

With Daoud's help, Edward made it inside and through the kitchen area to his small room where he collapsed on the narrow bed. He just lay prone on his back with his flesh hand over his eyes while Daoud removed his shoes and pulled a blanket over him. He groaned lightly when Daoud put a slightly cool hand on his forehead. "You are feverish, perhaps you have gotten too much sun. It can be bad for ones with fair skin. Rest awhile, and I will bring you some soup later."

Daoud smiled reassuringly and Edward gave him a sketchy grin back before he closed his eyes and fell into a light doze.

He awoke several hours later, sweating and gasping from a troubling dream he couldn't remember. Night had fallen and his room was dark,except for a weak halo of light cast by his bedside lamp. Edward looked about in surprise when he realized omeone had removed his clothing and dressed him in his pajamas.

He jerked back,startled when a large black shadow at the side of his bed moved towards him. "Shhh," soothed an unfamiliar voice. "It's quite all right. I am Dr. Forbes. Your employer called me in to examine you. Here, take this."

Dr. Forbes was a large, balding man with a fringe of flyaway brown hair around his head like an incomplete halo. He was dressed like an unmade bed in a cream colored linen suit over a pink shirt and red tie. His hands were large and square with short fingers and well-kept nails. His right hand slid underneath Edward's shoulders and lifted him effortlessly into a sitting position, then his left hand placed a tiny white pill between Edward's lips. "Here's some water, swallow it now. There's a good lad."

"What was that?" Edward asked as Dr. Forbes gently lowered his head back onto the pillow. "So much fuss over just a little fever. I'll feel better after a good night's sleep."

"That was quinine, Mr. Bauer," Dr. Forbes explained in his quiet, patient voice. "And it's your new best friend,because you are suffering from more than just a 'little fever'. What you've really got is malaria."

**Author's note: **This is bad, very bad. Eckart will soon know where Edward is and he will have to flee again. But now he is too sick to move...


	30. Bad News and more bad news

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own FMA, just the original characters I've created. I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile.

**Author's note: **post series and very AU. Some movie events will happen, just differently.

**Warning:** May contain movie spoilers, also bad language, violence, blood, death, and maybe sex.

**Author's note #1:** This series is hurtling towards 100 reviews and I thank each and every one of you who took the time out to click "submit a review". Your kind words make my days a little bit brighter.

_30. Bad News - And More Bad News_ (Schlechte Nachrichten und Schlechtere Nachrichten)

Fortunately, Edward had contracted one of the milder strains of malaria, called _vivax_. Unfortunately, Edward also had little resistance to machine world diseases, and even this type ravaged his slight frame. He lay on his bed curled into a tight ball of misery, his body racked with fever, chills, headache, and nausea so severe he could barely keep down the one grain of quinine Daoud gave him every six hours.

After two attempts to feed him some warm beef broth ended in painful episodes of vomiting, Edward simply refused to eat. This worried Dr. Forbes to much he brought along an intravenous rig on one of his twice-daily visits to drip fluids directly into his bloodstream. If there was any good in this, Dr. Forbes had discovered Edward was well liked by the native Egyptian servants. And they had no lack of relatives who were willing to sit by his bedside all night and bathe his face with cool water.

Even the sight of his prosthetic metal limbs couldn't scare away his more determined nurses. For they just decided Edward was a _djinn_ - a demon - in human form. If they cared for him now, he would exercise his demonic powers to bring them good luck later. When he twitched and muttered in the grip of a fevered dream, they interpreted the sounds as incantations to the gods of the demon world. Dr. Forbes was smart enough not to scoff at their beliefs, but he knew German when he heard it.

Edward slept fitfully, and when awake, he worried almost constantly. How long had it been since Rudolf had dropped a heavy hand on his shoulder and said _Hallo, Shambalan_? Probably time enough for him to go to the German embassy in Cairo and alert the Thule Society. Edward couldn't remember how many days it was since he had fallen ill. He was so sick he couldn't even lift his head off the pillow, but all his instincts were screaming _RUN!_ For all Edward knew, Eckart herself could be headed to Egypt to retrieve him.

His guess wasn't far off.

Three days after the incident at the tomb, an official staff car from the German embassy crunched it's way up the circular gravel driveway of the Howard residence. When the doorbell rang, head butler Tariq opened the door to reveal a blandly pleasant-looking young man dressed in a dark blue suit, and a green tie despite the searing afternoon heat. His blond hair was cut short and and well oiled, and hooded eyes glittered behind wire-rimmed spectacles. "Good afternoon, " said the young man with a half smile which didn't reach those blue eyes, and this made Tariq rather nervous. "I wish to speak with Major Howard, is he in?"

"I am sorry, _sahib_, but the Major is out at his dig site in the Valley of the Kings, perhaps you could call again later?" responded Tariq in a polished, yet hopeful tone. _How about never?_ was the unspoken follow up. To his shock, the young man did not back away, instead he advanced into the front parlor of the house, obliging the shocked butler to step back. He walked in as if he owned the place and proceeded to make himself comfortable upon the overstuffed damask sofa. The smile he threw at Tariq looked distinctly predatory.

"Then I shall wait for the Major's return. I have come out all the way from Cairo on business with him, and it's far too important for me to return to my lodgings in Luxor for just a few hours." He laid a small leather bound folder upon the coffee table before he sat back and looked expectantly at the butler. "Is there any chance for a cup of tea?"

**Author's note #2:** The vultures are beginning the circle, and one bold fellow has landed to roost!


	31. Hospitalized

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA, I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile

**Author's note: **Post series and very AU, some movie events will happen, but differently

**Warning:** May contain movie spoilers, plus violence, bad language, blood, death, and maybe sex

**Summary: **Edward doesn't like to remember his past, but it intrudes as we skip back a few months to the day he had surgery.

**Beta:** Kittygirl109

_31. Hospitalized_ (Hospitalisiert)

_Munich,August1927_

The students and residents at the teaching hospital of the University of Munich learned the drill in less than six months. If Professor Hohenheim's car pulled up to the main entrance before classes began for the day, it was a sure sign Edward was sick again. Someone would dash out with a wheelchair and bundle a slight figure into it before returning at a quick trot.

Edward's illnesses tended to be just minor viral infections which would make most people listless enough to stay in their own bed for a day or so. But his symptoms of high fever, dehydration, headache and nausea were severe enough that he required hospitalization every few months. The regular rate at which Edward picked up these infections, and his body's inability to fight them off both puzzled and troubled Professor Jungbeck. Edward was sickly before he came to Germany so the Professor knew the installation of his experimental prothesis was not to blame.

The blonde would lie limp as a wet sock upon the examining table, his skin flushed and damp with sweat, lips dried out and eyes sunken in. Whichever student/residents were on duty would administer the standard treatment of hooking Edward up to an intravenous line of fluids and giving him an injection of a pain killer. This usually did the trick in about twenty-four hours, Edward would be ornery and snapping insults at who ever was unfortunate to draw him. Professor Jungbeck considered Edward Elric to be an invaluable tool in teaching his students how to deal with _difficult_ patients.

But very occasionally, Edward would be deathly ill for two or three days. Then he would cry out and struggle in the grip of a feverish delerium. Those days he had to be strapped down to his hospital bed and closely monitored to prevent him pulling out an I.V. needle. When Edward was brought in one afternoon just after the fall term started, Professor Jungbeck could be forgiven for thinking it was just another serious infection.

But this time was worse.

Edward was feverish as usual, but he wasn't exhibiting the other symptoms. Instead, he moaned in pain and clutched at his abdomen while he writhed upon the table. One of the third-year students explained Edward was assisting his father in administering physics tests all that morning. He had been collecting completed papers when he suddenly dropped what he was carrying, then stopped and clutched at his stomach before he collapsed on the floor. A couple of Professor Hohenheim's students carried him to his office and laid him on a couch, where he regained consciousness a few minutes later.

"I'm _fine,_ father!" Edward protested, but he was sweating profusely, his face was pale, and he winced every few seconds. "Stop - _ouch!_ - fussing - over me - _ungh!_ - old man - _geh_!"

Hohenheim retorted, with a grim smile upon his face, "Don't lie to me, Edward. I can see something is wrong. I've already made a call and some of the medical students are coming to fetch you back to the hospital."

Edward responded with some choicely rude words under his breath, and he tried to get up from the couch under his own power when two young men arrived with a wheelchair. He tried to tell them he could walk to the hospital when such a wave of pain ripped through his midsection, Edward could only utter a low-pitched animal moan before he collapsed a second time.


	32. Surgery

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own FMA, I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile

**Author's note: **post series and rather AU. Some movie events will happen, but differently

**Warning: **May contain movie spoilers, plus bad language, violence, blood, death, and maybe sex.

**Beta: **Kittygirl109

_32. Surgery_ (Chirurgie)

Professor Jungbeck slapped Edward's hands away from where they were tightly clutching his shirt just before he snapped, "Stop that, Herr Elric! I know you are in pain, but you must let us examine you. Now hold still!"

Edward responded by raising his head and fixing the man with a fierce basilisk glare, but the Professor obstinately refused to burst into flames. Defeated for the moment, he sighed, dropped his head back, and obediently moved his hands to clutch the sides of the examining table. Determined to be brave and not cry out again, he clenched his teeth and hissed between them in time with the pain throbbing in his gut.

A third-year resident named Fritz unbuttoned Edward's waistcoat and shirt, then the top three buttons of his pants before he pulled the cloth away. Edward nervously sucked in his breath and eyed him warily. Experienced fingers gently probed the area of the abdomen he had been clutching at while Fritz muttered "hmm" quietly.

"The skin is hot, and the abdomen is slightly distended in this area," he pressed down first on Edward's right side, then the middle, and finally the left side. Frtiz muttered "HMM!" even louder when Edward reacted with a loud yelp of pain. Fritz swept his gaze over his fellow students and residents assembled about the table and crowded at the door of the examining room before he addressed Professor Jungbeck.

"I diagnose appendicitis Professor, a severe case too. I believe the appendix will burst in the next twenty-four to thirty-six hours."

"And your recommendation, Doktor Leuhring?" Jungbeck asked in a dry voice without inflection.

"Immediate surgery is indicated, Herr Professor. There is great danger of peritonitis should material from inside the appendix leak out and cause an infection. Yet I welcome a second opinion." Fritz nodded to Johann, another third-year resident. He stepped forward and repeated the examination.

"STOP IT!" Edward screamed. "THAT HURTS!"

Jungbeck ignored his outburst and began to crisply issue orders, "Johann, today you will get your chance to be the head surgeon. Doktors Leuhring and Federmann will assist you." He nodded towards one of the few female residents in the room. "Doktor Langenhorst, you shall be in charge of anesthesia, so pick someone to assist you. But take your time because I must contact some of the living donors first."

The installation of Edward's experimental prosthetic limbs six years ago were complicated by his extremely rare blood type of AB negative. The hospital had no blood stocks of that type available, although it did have enough type O, the "universal type", so called because it was compatible with all other types banked. But this stock was valuable for that reason and Professor Jungbeck didn't want to dip into it if he didn't have to. The hospital had a list of "living donors", people with rare blood types who were willing to donate a pint of blood as needed. A few of them were AB negative and they lived not far away from the hospital.

Fourth year student Frida Langenhorst inserted a fine-gauge needle into Edward's left hand and taped it down, she had cared for him during his last serious illness and was familiar with his uncertain temperament. As the drug began to drip into a vein, she rubbed his shoulder and spoke soothingly to him. "Please be patient, Herr Elric, you will begin to feel a little sleepy in just a few minutes."

Not believing her, Edward gritted his teeth and felt embarrassed by his earlier outburst. He had endured the installation of these prosthetic limbs without screaming, he would not cry out again. Suddenly, he began to feel _woozy_ as a sort of mental fog snaked tendrils across his mind. His abdomen still hurt, but it felt disconnected, as if it was happening to someone else.

He heard Frida say "He's ready" as if she was speaking from across the room, and he felt slight movement as the table he lay on was wheeled towards the operating theatre. Edward nodded off briefly, then snapped awake when the table stopped.


	33. Truth hurts

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own FMA,only the OCs I've created. I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile

**Author's note: **post series and rather AU. Some movie events will happen, but differently

**Warning: **May contain movie spoilers, parts will contain violence, bad language, blood, death, and maybe sex.

**Beta:** Kittygirl109

_33. Truth Hurts_ (Wahrheit Hurts)

Bright lights. White sheets. Masked and gowned figures. One of them placed a hissing black _thing_ over Edward's nose and mouth before a gentle female voice urged him to "breathe deeply." His head already muzzy from the sleep medication, Edward obeyed and his surroundings faded away into swirling darkness.

He was home again. The green grass of Risembool swished underneath Edward's feet as he raced up a hill towards Rockbell Automail. He saw Den barking in the distance, and _there_ in front of the house were the three people he most longed to see. Granny Pinako, Winry, and - _Alphonse_. His little brother was back in his human body. Overjoyed, Edward ran faster, and once within shouting distance he waved his arms and called out loudly.

Something was wrong.

Edward could hear his own voice ringing in his ears, but the air seemed to snatch the sound away. Amd the trio in front of the house, and the dog didn't seem to react to his approach. _Why can't they hear me?_ Edward had gotten so close he had reached out one hand to touch Alphonse when he slammed so hard into something, he was thrown backwards for several feet.

Edward fell hard on to his backside, the wind knocked out of him. He gasped for air and stared at the people he loved and cared about. They were utterly oblivious to his presence. When Edward got his breath back, he scrambled to his feet and charged foward again. But only feet away from his goal, he struck an invisible barrier. It gave - but only slightly - before he was thrown down to the grass again.

"Dammit!" Edward yelled in a defiant tone. "You are not going to stop me!" This time, he held his hands in front himself until his fingers touched the barrier. It looked like empty air, but felt like an invisible wall. He walked left, and circled the Rockbell house, but he couldn't find an end to the wall which made a continuous circle. It extended higher than he could jump and met the ground so seamlessly, Edward couldn't find any gap he could work on. He grumbled for a moment, then stopped and smiled wickedly.

_In this world, I can perform alchemy!_ Edward thought, and he brought his hands up and clapped them together. But nothing happened,there was no arc of blue light, he didn't even feel the familiar thrum of power throughout his body. Frustrated, Edward pounded his fists on the wall with all the strength he had. At the same time, he shouted **"Alphonse!"** at the top of his lungs.

But Alphonse never once looked up. Edward's voice gave way after a few minutes, and he slid to his knees, then burst into tears. He buried his face in his hands and cried so loudly he never heard the footsteps approaching.

"You big baby," sneered a familiar, and mocking voice. "Be a man and face it, you'll never get home. So give it up already!"

_Envy._

Edward snuffled, and gulped back tears before he raised his head and looked at his bitterest enemy. He'd expected to see the Sin with purple cat-like eyes, and long green straggly hair who wore that ridiculous black outfit. But the man before him had shoulder length blond hair,his eyes the same shade of gold as Edward's, and he wore a natty dark blue pin-striped suit. Envy stood there with his hands clasped behind his back and a malicous smile upon his face. Edward had seen that face for only a moment in the buried opera house, but he recognized it as the true face of Envy, his long-homunculized half-brother.

"Now do you remember, little brother?" Envy chortled, and Edward felt a murderous surge of the old anger. Without conscious thought, his teeth grated and his fists clenched. Envy's hateful smile became wider. "Of course you do, fullmetal pipsqueak! And guess what? I get to kill you again! Now **DIE**, you little bastard!"

He brought his hands forward and there was a long sword in one of them. Before Edward could react, Envy thrust forward with the sword and buried it almost to the hilt in Edward's stomach. Agonizing pain stabbed throughout his body and he screamed.

And this time, the screams were loud - very loud.

Pain. Thrashing. Screaming. Concerned faces appeared above him. Hands held him down. Consciousness rushed back to Edward in time for him to hear Johann shout, "Schiess! He's pulled his stitches!"


	34. Relapse

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA, I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile.

**Author's note: **post series and rather AU. Some movie events will happen, but differently.

**Warning: **may contain movie spoilers. Does and will contain bad language, violence, blood and death. Maybe sex too, but I haven't decided.

**Beta: **Kittygirl109

_34. Relapse_ (Ruckfall)

"Mein gott!" Johann exploded with emotion, but his medical training kept the panic at bay. "Fritz! Go and get operating theatre three ready. Matthias, inform Professor Jungbeck. I hope he didn't call all the AB negative donors in because Herr Elric will be needing a transfusion. Ach, is he ever bleeding!"

Edward had squeezed his eyes shut soon after he awoke, but he opened them again and raised his head slightly. He gasped at the sight because the entire midsection of the hospital pajamas he wore was a red, sodden mess. Edward raised himself up to his elbows and stared in mounting horror, _that's MY blood!_ he thought and began to hyperventilate.

"Let me through!" a woman's voice groused and medical students parted to let Frida pass to his bedside. She took charge immediately and put a hand on Edward's chest to push him back down and hold him there. She crisply ordered, "Hans! Put some screens around the bed!"

To Edward she said, more softly, "Stay down, Herr Elric. I'm giving you something to make you sleep."

On a table next to the bed, she set down a small tray which held a cotton ball, a small bottle of alcohol, and a filled hyperdermic needle. With well trained efficiency, she soaked the cotton and swabbed the inside of Edward's elbow. He shuddered when she slid the needle in, then groaned when the drug was administered. The familiar feeling of disconnected muzziness spread throughout his body and Edward drifted away to a place deep within his mind.

Edward floated upon a pool of dark water. It was perfectly round and surrounded by black evergreen trees which grew to within a few feet of the water's edge. Looking up, Edward could see a patch of very blue sky with some puffy white clouds drifting across. It was very quiet and peacful in Edward's subconscious, the water was warm and smooth as glass, moving up and down as he breathed. As the anesthetic he received in the outer world took effect, his subconscious self slowly sank beneath the surface of the water. All the way down to the bottom of the pool where he remained, perfectly comfortable during the repair surgery.

As Edward struggled towards consciousness in the recovery room later, his inner self - his _Ego_ - rose back to the surface. Immediately to his left, a short pier jutted from the pool's shore. Standing on it's very end was a small blond boy wearing a blue shirt, tan shorts, and red sandals.

_Edward._

Or, Edward as he had been before. Before his father had abandoned the family home. Before his mother had died. Before everything had gone wrong. It was Edward as _Id. _It was the Edward the ego longed to be again. The face of the inner Edward lit up with joy and he abruptly stood up in only ankle-deep water. He took a step toward the boy Edward, then stopped and held out his hand. "Come to me. Let us be one again."

But the boy Edward smiled sadly, and backed up a step. "No, we cannot. That time is past. You will never return to being me." He turned smartly and walked away, stepped off the pier and onto the shore. Then he melted away into the trees.

The inner Edward began to shake. He fell to his knees and put his face in his hands. "NO!" He cried out in anguish. "It cannot be! It - it...mustn't be!"

A voice which was both all around him and within him at the same time whispered, "It is. It simply is."

Edward sighed deeply when he woke up, back in his hospital bed. He raised his head slightly and looked down at his body. Pristine, startched white sheets covered his midsection. Edward dropped his head back to the pillow and he felt tears pricking the corners of his eyes.

Mindful of of the new stiches pulling painfully, he cautiously turned over on his left side and pulled his knees up to his chest. He drew a long, shuddering breath before a sob broke from his lips.

A few minutes later, his class duties done for the day, Hohenheim entered the ward to visit him. He'd been on tenterhooks since shortly after lunch when he'd been informed of the hiccup in Edward's recovery. The old alchemist stood at the foot of the young man's bed and listened for perhaps a minute before he turned to a passing nurse, and asked, "Excuse me, but why is my son crying?"


	35. Denouement

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA, only the OC's I've created. I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile.

**Author's note: **post series and very AU. Some movie events will happen, but differently

**Summary: **After Hohenheim's sudden death, Edward flees Munich to escape the Thule Society, who want him to open a portal to his world. He's settled in Egypt as tutor to the children of a wealthy amateur archealogist. But his routine life there has been blown to smithereens after a he was recognized by a Society member, and then fell seriously ill with malaria.

**Warning: **May contain movie spoilers. Contains violence, bad language, death, and maybe sex

**Beta: **Kittygirl109

_33. Denouement_ (Denouement)

Edward's fever finally broke just before dawn of the fourth day. With the fever went all the symptoms which made him so miserable and he fell into a deep sleep. He slumbered until mid-afternoon and woke to find the faithful Daoud feeling his forehead.

"Your temperature is almost back to normal, _sahib_. Are you hungry? The cook has simmered a nice beef broth for you. But first, take your quinine."

Daoud helped Edward to sit up in his bed, and gave him the familiar white pill and a glass of water to wash it down with. He was feeding Edward the broth when Major Howard stormed in and informed him he had been sacked.

Edward choked on a mouthful of broth. After a few moments of coughing and sputtering while his eyes watered, he managed to gasp out, "Since when? And WHY?!"

"Since yesterday afternoon!" thundered the Major, his face gone an unhealthy shade of puce. "Because I've been told you're a ruddy nut job! My wife went into hysterics when she found out a mental case had been tutoring our children. If you so much as _touched_ April, I'll..."

"Calm down before you burst a blood vessel, Major," Dr. Forbes said abruptly as he walked in. He'd heard Howard shouting as he got out of his car and seen the scullery and chamber maids weeping, terrified of the Major's temper. "That young man from the German embassy was very smooth, but something isn't setting right because his story doesn't add up. I think you should give Mr. Elric a chance to explain why he used a false name."

Edward had turned so pale at the sound of his true surname, a suddenly alarmed Dr. Forbes feared his patient would faint right there. Spots had indeed formed before Edward's eyes and the room tilted. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard until the uncomfortable feeling of vertigo had eased.

"Major," his voice came out in a stress-induced croak. "I can assure you I am _not_ crazy and I have a good reason for using a false name."

"HMPH!" growled Major Howard, but he crossed his arms and waited with an expectant glare.

"Yes, my real name is Edward Elric. Until a few months ago, I lived with my father, who was a professor of physics and chemistry at the University of Munich. Then, my father did something to annoy the Nazis, specifically an organization called the Thule Society, Edward decided not to mention he and Hohenheim had also been members. "They had gotten it into their heads my father and I were from a parallel world they call 'Shambala'. Then they demanded father help them reach this world, and naturally, he told them it was impossible."

"They kept pressing and he kept on refusing until there was a confrontation," Edward paused and swallowed hard again, this memory was still so painful to the touch. "During this confrontation, he received an injury which caused his death."

So far, so good, Edward hadn't been interrupted by either man. Dr. Forbes had sat down in the bedside chair recently vacated by Daoud, who had backed up against the far wall and pretended to be invisible. Major Howard hadn't moved, and his arms were still crossed, and his expression still malevolent. Edward took a deep breath and finished his story. "My father lived long enough to return home and tell me what happened. He begged me to flee because he felt I was in danger. After he died, I threw some clothes into a suitcase and ran. But, the Thule Society doesn't give up easily, and that is why they have come after me, using this lie about my mental stability."

Howard opened his mouth to speak, but Edward cut him off. "You are free to call me a liar, Major. But all I ask is a few more days to recover, and my back wages. Then I'll leave and you will never hear from me again. Is that a deal?"


	36. Lies, Damn Lies and Little Fibs

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own FMA, jsut the OCs I've created. I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for a while

**Author's note: **post series and very AU. Some movie events will happen, but differently

**Summary: **From Munich to Vienna, then Milan to Cairo and the Valley of the Kings. Edward had run for weeks to escape the Thule Society, and he thought he was done running for awhile. But a chance encounter, and a serious illness have forced Edward's hand.

**Warning:** May contain movie spoilers. Contains violence, bad language, death, and maybe sex.

_36. Lies, Damn Lies, and Little Fibs_ (Lugen, Fluch-Lugen und wenig flunkert)

Major Howard had not been happy to see the German in his parlor when he came home, tired and dusty, from a long day of messing about the tomb he was excavating. He already harbored a xenophobic dislike of foreigners, and the events of the Great War had definately soured him upon Germans.

Sadly for him, the young man had exquisite manners, he stood up promptly and bowed deeply when the Major entered. "Thank you for agreeing to see me, Major Howard. I promise not to take up too much of your time."

_I agreed?_ he thought and grumbled inwardly. The young German was so polite, but the Major would watch him closely for an excuse to have him thrown out. "All right you, I've had a long day and I want my dinner, so say your piece quickly!"

"Of course, Major," the fellow said so smoothly, Major Howard had an almost overwhelming desire to punch him in the nose. But he restrained the urge because his darling wife was sitting on the sofa opposite the German, and any violence displeased her. "My name is Ernst Draco and I've come about the young man whom you have engaged as a tutor for your children."

"Well, what about him? The man is doing an excellent job, and the children report they like him. Plus he is kind enough to come to the Valley in the afternon and copy the inscriptions and paintings in my tomb." Here the Major fibbed a little, not that he was going to tell that damned Jerry. The tomb work wasn't part of Edward's job description, but Howard was intent on squeezing his money's worth out of his employees.

Ernst chuckled drily at this, as if he knew he was being lied to. "Yes, he is very good at what he does. But the truth is, he is not Swiss and Bauer is not his real name. Elric is his real surname, and he is an escaped mental patient."

If they could have, the ends of Howard's walrus mustache would have stood straight out in shock. **"WHAT!!??"** he roared. "What did you say!?"

"Edward's father died very suddenly, not long before Christmas. A great tragedy, especially at what is supposed to be a joyful time of the year. The young man was so distressed by this, he formed the delusion his father had been murdered, and he was next on the killer's list. The father's friends were quite distraught to hear him say this at the wake, and they arranged to have him committed to an institution called -" Ernst unzipped the leather folder he had brought, pulled out a sheaf of papers, and riffled through them. "Ah, here it is, the Angelika Convalescent and Nursing Home. It's a very nice place and Edward would get the help he needed there. The friends planned to take him there directly after the funeral, but something went wrong."

Mrs. Howard finally spoke up, and asked in a small and nervous voice, "And what went wrong?"

Ernst favored her with another dazzling smile which didn't reach his hooded eyes, "Edward somehow got wind of their plans - he is a brilliant young man - and he refused to get into the car which was to take him to the home." Ernst threw his hands up as if exasperated. "Things got out of control after a couple of the men tried to force Edward in, he became violent and punches were thrown. A few noses got bloodied before he broke free and ran away. We have been searching for him ever since."


	37. Checkmate

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own FMA, only the OCs I've created. I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile

**Author's note: **post series and very AU. Some movie events may happen, but differently

**Warning: **May contain movie spoilers. This story will contain violence, bad language, death, and perhaps sex.

**Beta: **Kittygirl109

_37. Checkmate_ (Niederlage)

Edward awoke with a start, sweating and shaking from an unpleasant dream. He just lay still for a moment and tried to calm down, while the dark shadows of the dream began to fade from his memory. The house was silent, and he couldn't hear any sound past the closed door of his room. To judge from the angle of the sun, and the heat, it must be early afternoon, all the servants were probably resting out of the scorching heat.

Because he woke up groggy and disoriented, Edward hated sleeping all day.Yet Dr. Forbes told him it was normal. The deep sleep which dragged him down for hours at a time was his body's way of recovering from the effects of the malaria. "After you've regained your strength, you will find your circadian rhythms will return to sync, plus your body will better withstand the next bout of malaria."

It had been only three days, _no, wait, or was it four?_ that Major Howard "terminated his services" and (grudgingly) granted him five days to recover. Edward spent almost all of it sleeping and even now, the siren call of the Land of Nod was pulling his eyelids back down. He knew better than to fight it. With a sigh, Edward relaxed and sank back into the velvet arms of Morpheus...

It was dusk when he awakened again and Edward knew at once he wasn't alone. His bedside lamp was throwing it's usual weak halo of light and he could sense someone was sitting in the chair next to him. He shifted his gaze left to see, not Dr. Forbes, or Daoud, but a person he missed seeing.

_Emmeline._

Lady Howard's companion, Miss Childers, otherwise known as just plain "Childers". She was a poor relation of her ladyship's, and forced by circumstance to be the doormat of her better-off cousin. It seemed a million years ago when Edward had met her and the Howards in Cairo and he'd determined not to get involved, to keep his distance. His resolve had lasted all of a fortnight before they happened to meet long enough to do more than exchange bland pleasantries.

Edward had gone up to to Major's study to show him the lesson plan he had worked out for the twins. But the Major already had visitors, some amateur archealogical society he was involved with and they didn't show any signs of taking their leave any time soon. Edward had been forced to cool his heels, sitting on a delicate wooden chair next to a small table with a chessboard inlaid into it's surface. After roughly five minutes, Edward was getting very bored and had begun to drum his glove-clad metal fingers on the table top.

"Excuse me, Mr. Bauer, but would you care for a game? The Major could be in there for the better part of the morning when he's talking about archealogy." Edward started and he looked up to see Miss Childers standing there, with a thin sheaf of papers in one hand. She pulled out the mate to Edward's chair and sat down, neatly tucking her feet underneath the table. Edward hadn't seen her so near before, he covertly studied her face and decided that close up, she was a fetching woman.

"All morning?" Edward echoed with dismay. He wanted to get right on his new job, and this news gave him an empty feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Well, all right. I've not played chess before, but I'll give it a try."

Miss Childers reached to the front of the table and pressed the head of a woman wearing a crown which was carved into the dark cherrywood. Instantly, a drawer full of the pieces - pawns, knights, rooks, bishops, kings, and queens - shot open. Edward followed her lead in setting up the pieces, and listened patiently while she sketched out the rules of the game. He was a quick learner and thought he grasped the fundamentals when she let him make the first move. _This game shouldn't take long, and maybe I'll enjoy it._

Edward was right in feeling the game would end quickly.

She creamed him in just a dozen moves.


	38. Brief Affair

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer:**I don't own FMA, just the OCs I've created for this story. I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile

**Author's note:** post series and very AU. Some movie events may happen, but differently

**Summary:** Edward recalls the few weeks of peace he enjoyed in Egypt.

**Warning:** may contain movie spoilers, also bad language, violence, death, and maybe sex.

**Beta:** Kittygirl109 (I wish to thank her for all her work, despite her not feeling well)

_38. A Brief Affair_ (Kurse Angelgenheit)

It still seemed very quiet in the house, and Edward asked Emmeline, "Where is everyone?"

"Major Howard is probably on the way back from his dig site, but he's just stopping long enough to change, he's been invited to dine at some nabob's house in Luxor. Lady Howard has taken the twins to Cairo and she refuses to return until quote 'that madman is gone', unqoute."

Edward cocked his head and raised one eyebrow, "And you've been left all alone with the daft tutor?" he asked in mock surprise. "Who's left to defend your feminine virtue? All the servants think I'm a _djinn_, so even Daoud is a little afraid of me. You poor, poor woman."

Emmeline leaned closer to Edward and let her warm breath puff over one cheek, "But you are a friendly _djinn_, I know I have nothing to fear."

He raised himself up on his elbows just before their lips met.

Edward Elric didn't like to be outrun, outgunned, outfought, or outplayed by anyone. It still took a few games before he could match Emmeline at chess. After the day's lessons were over, he even took to sneaking into the library and "borrowing" some books on chess strategy. When the rest of the family rested after returning from the dig site, and before dressing for dinner, Edward and Emmeline would meet in the corridor outside the Major's study for a game, perhaps two.

The late afternoon sun pouring through a high window shone over their heads bent close together over the chess board, gilding their hair - her auburn, his blond - as each planned their next move. Edward was glad of his long bangs, which shielded his eyes while they ranged backwards and forwards over the board. Plus he could covertly study Emmeline's face this way.

Emmeline had ten years on him, but she was the sort of woman who was said to 'age gracefully'. Her eyes were green and looked out of a pleasingly symmetrical face. The cheeks were a little reddened by sun and wind, her nose was a tad too long, and her chin a bit too rounded. But Edward thought her ears were exquisitely shaped, and they balanced out those flaws. During the course of their games, she had told Edward her life story: father was a greengrocer who died young and left the family destitute, obliging Emmeline to put aside her dreams of universitiy and go into service to support her mother and three younger brothers.

Edward could understand the 'duty' of the eldest siblings, but the unfairness of it all still rankled. The same day he finally beat her at chess, he went out into the back garden later in the evening and found her weeping. Not because she had lost, but after yet another public humiliation at the hands of Lady Howard. She knew Emmeline would have outshone her in the looks department, so she made her companion continue to wear her hair very long and piled on top of her head. The clothes she had to don were rejects from Lady Howard's own wardrobe, and at least five years out of date.

He hated to see and hear women cry, Edward felt something had gone seriously wrong with the universe when females were brought to tears. He immediately sat down next to her on the stone bench, and after a moment to screw up his courage, put his arms around her shoulders. His shirt was soaked by the time she stopped crying, but Emmeline said it had felt very nice to feel his sympathetic embrace.

But the first time they kissed was a bit of a disaster. Edward held her too tightly, their noses bumped, and she accidentally bit his lower lip. Edward explained away the swollen lip to Daoud by claiming he had missed while attempting to swat a mosquito with his hairbrush and hit himself in the face. Major and Lady Howard never noticed, but the twins looked suspicious.

Like chess, kissing took a lot of practice.

After their lips finally broke contact, Emmeline gave him such a sad smile, Edward's heart ached, as if it was being clenched by an invisible fist. "Just two more days, and then you either leave on your own, or Major Howard will have you thrown out."

Edward lay back down, sighed and nodded. He hadn't meant to fall in love with Emmeline Childers, nor she with him. Now their brief affair was not only over, he would have to dig through his store of false identity papers and flee again. He looked up again at the sound of a bowl scraping on china, and now he noticed a tray on his bedside table. Emmeline had brought his dinner, a small bowl of savory beef and noodle soup. Plus a plate with a silver cover over it wafted fumes of roast pork, gravy, and mashed potoatoes.

His stomach growled and his mouth watered. With a soft grunt, Edward sat up in bed and he let Emmeline feed him. He ate slowly because he wanted to savor every moment, the taste of the food, and the memory of a beautiful woman.

_Just two more days..._


	39. Sanctuary

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA, I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile

**Author's note:** post series and very AU. Some movie events will happen, but differently

**Warning: **May contain movie spoilers, does contain violence, death, and maybe sex.

_39. Sanctuary_ (Schongebiet)

Two days later, Edward departed at dusk. After one last flurry of stolen kisses from Emmeline's sweet lips, he pulled on his coat, grabbed his suitcase and left the Howard residence for the last time. In a final act of defiance, he went out the _front_ door, making sure to stomp hard on each tread of the steps as if to imprint the fact a mere servant had dared to do so. He only wished Major Howard had been there to see it., but that mustached ignoramus was out at his dig site.

He had turned back and waved several times as Isis House receded in to the distance, to Emmeline, and to the other house servants. After the last wave, Edward set his gaze firmly towards the Nile and he trudged down the dusty main road towards the landing stages where local ferrymen waited for passengers. Righteous anger towards his erstwhile employer bubbled through his veins and he made good time at first.

But when Edward had to stop and rest three times in the space of an hour, he began to wonder if he hadn't made a mistake. He sat on his suitcase and sweated, while his temples pounded with the first tendrils of a headache. Edward looked wistfully towards the lights of Isis House blazing in the distance, and wished he was back in bed. He was so tired, he had begun to nod off when the honk of a car horn jerked him awake.

The lights blinded him for a moment and an icy fear crept up from his innards, fear the car contained that bastard from the German embassy. What had been his name? _Ernst Draco_. Edward heard all about him via the servant's grapevine, the news embellished here and there by Tariq's insistence Draco was another _djinn_. An evil one, who's true form was that of a cobra. Edward gulped as the car drew closer. If Draco wanted to grab him, he didn't have the strength to fight back, or escape.

A battered touring sedan, dented and rusty with mismatched wheels pulled up beside him. It swung back and forth on loose springs before the passenger side door shivered, then swung open with a protesting creak of stiff hinges. Barely daring to breathe, Edward looked up into the driver's face.

"You look terrible, Edward. Get in before you collapse." Dr. Forbes said with a slight smile on his face, which didn't reach his brown eyes. He looked the same way Edward's mother did before she scolded him when he was naughty.

"I was held up longer than usual with a difficult delivery in Gurneh and I rushed to Isis House as fast as I could, but you had already left. So it's a good thing you stuck to the main road, or I never would have found you. What were you thinking, trying to walk all the way to the landing stage? You ought to have stayed put until Howard came back, then asked for a ride from him. He owes you that much." Dr. Forbes spoke out of the side of his mouth because he needed to keep his eyes on the road which seemed to be made mostly of rocks and potholes. He sounded disappointed in Edward's lack of common sense.

Edward didn't answer right away because the motion of the car was lulling him to sleep. Or it had been until a particularly jarring series of potholes yanked him back to full wakefullness. His speech center still foggy, he mumbled, "I had nowhere else to go but Luxor."

"You would never had made it, Edward. You are still too weak to travel. The winter days are hot enough, but the temperature plunges after dark. There is a good chance you would have collapsed from exhaustion and frozen to death. At best, you could have suffered a relapse." Dr. Forbes reached one large hand over and rested the fingers on Edward's cheek, and the younger man leaned his face into the coolness. "You have a slight fever. I think you should go back to bed and rest for a few more days."

"Where're we going?" Edward was barely able to move his mouth to get the question out. He closed his eyes and attempted to go back to sleep, but the car jerked just then and he banged his head on the window. Awake again, he frowned and rubbed the aching spot on his head. Edward's frown deepened when Dr. Forbes laughed at him, his anger vanished.

"We are going to my house in this village coming up," Edward looked out the dust streaked and cracked car windshield to see lights gradually getting closer. "I live in a big house with my wife and family, plus her parents, innumerable relatives and semi-permanent guests. It's very chaotic, but comfortable. And despite all the people, there are somehow a few empty bedrooms." The car chugged onto what passed for the village's main street, it was smoother than the road they had been on, but only just.

It seemed to Edward every last inhabitant of the village was standing on the front stoops of their houses, waving to Dr. Forbes and calling out greetings. He waved back and called in Arabic, apparently he knew everyone by their first names. The main street was barely a block long and it dead-ended at a long mud brick wall pierced with an arch. Dr. Forbes drove under it into a large courtyard which appeared to be the scene of a soccer match between two evenly matched teams of children and dogs. The game broke up at the sight of the car as all parcipants rushed towards it, yelling and barking.

Dr. Forbes parked the car, and turned off the engine, it dieseled briefly and was still.. Then he turned towards Edward and grinned, "Prepare to be mobbed."


	40. To Sleep, Perchance

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA, I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile

**Author's note: **post series and very AU, some movie events will happen, but differently

**Warning:** May contain movie spoilers, has and will contain violence, death and maybe sex

_40 To Sleep, Perchance_ (Zu schafen, vielleicht)

Edward didn't remember much of that night after he got shakily out of the car. He dimly recalled mouthing greetings to the children, and "nice doggy" - in Arabic - to the dogs who nearly knocked him down when they jumped on him. Dr. Forbes somehow rescued him from the general bedlam and introduced him to his wife, Khadija. She was a buxom woman who practically exuded love and affection from every pore, and for a brief, mad moment, Edward wished she was his mother. Still in a weariness-induced fog, he murmured a greeting and tried to bow to her, but his knees trembled and he nearly fell on his face in the dirt. He settled for a slight incline of his head, and hoped she wasn't insulted.

Not sure if he was awake, or just dreaming he was awake, he let Dr. Forbes guide him into the house where the noise level was even higher. He must have dozed off on his feet because he suddenly came to to find himself sitting at a table. Someone set a bowl of steaming hot beef stew in front of him, but Dr. Forbes chose that moment to stick a thermometer under his tongue so he couldn't eat. He couldn't even pick up the spoon next to the bowl because the doctor had also claimed the left wrist to take his pulse.

Edward glared, Dr. Forbes ignored the look.

The stew was loaded with chunks of beef and vegetables in a savory brown gravy, and it was absolutely delicious. Edward was so hungry he barely tasted the first bowl, but he took his time with the second, and the third. In a blissful satiated state, he was using a piece of home-baked bread to mop up the rest of the gravy when he finally and irrevocably hit the wall. He managed to chew and swallow the last piece, but couldn't keep his head up any longer. Edward heard Dr. Forbes say as if from a long distance, "It's past your bedtime, I think."

Edward assumed he passed out about then because he pried his eyelids open a few minutes later to discover he was being carried by a dark-skinned man with a lined face, white hair, and fierce eyes. They passed through a doorway and crossed a smaller courtyard which smelled of flowers. Edward could hear water trickling nearby. It was fully dark outside, and vivid stars glittered through the chilly air. Steam puffed from his nose and he shivered involuntarily, Dr. Forbes was right, he never would have made it. He heard hinges creak, and the man carrying him turned right before they crossed the threshold of a small room.

Edward was set on the edge of a narrow bed and he swayed somnabulently while his shoes were removed. Then he was gently lifted up and back until his head sunk into a soft pillow. Edward sighed with pleasure as starched white sheets and a quilt in a colorful block pattern were pulled up to his neck. The sound of trickling water was the last thing he heard before sleep finally won the war and claimed him.

Something inching across his face woke Edward up. Maybe it was the bright sunlight, or maybe it was the feather tickling just under his nose. His face twitched and he sneezed loudly, the sound bringing a high-pitched giggle from somewhere on his left side. He sniffed, yawned, and stretched before he looked over at a pair of bright brown eyes which danced with mischief.

"Good morning," he murmured in Arabic, and the child's eyes widened briefly.

"Morning!" the girl yelped with surprise. "It's just past noon, you sleepyhead! I've been awake for hours, and it's time you got up too!" She put her hands on her hips and tried to fix him with a fierce glare which didn't look very scary on that innocent face. Edward blinked and used his left hand to knuckle the sleep from his eyes. The room seemed to be full of children. Besides the bossy girl who had just told him to get up, almost a dozen more crowded into the room, and several more pairs of eyes were peeking around the door frame.

Edward did a quick count and came up with a total of: twenty-two. He sat up in the bed and bowed his head before solemnly greeting them with "Good afternoon!" in Arabic. The girls all giggled and the boys grinned. The clothes they wore were simple - shift dresses on the girls - the boys in the robes called _galabeeyahs_. But the clothes were clean and the children looked well fed and happy. Until a woman's voice rang out in the courtyard, then fear briefly flashed across their faces. As one, they turned and bolted from the room.

Edward's stomach growled loudly and he looked down to see he was still wearing the same clothes from yesterday, all rumpled and dusty. Time to get up and see if there was anything to be had for lunch. Unless those children had eaten it all. He pushed back the covers and swung his feet over the edge of the bed. Edward was on the verge of setting them down on the floor when he jumped as a stern female voice ordered him back into bed.


	41. A Place of Refuge

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA, I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile

**Author's note: **Post series and very AU. Some movie events will happen, but differently.

**Warning: **may contain movie spoilers. Will contain violence, death, and maybe sex.

_41. __A Place of Refuge_ (Ein Ort von Schutz)

Her name was Djura.

She was the older sister of Khadija, and the sternest nurse Edward had ever encountered.

Steely of eye, she entered the room bearing a covered tray and a disapproving demeanor which reminded Edward of Pinako Rockbell whenever the old woman was angry with him. Edward didn't think he could have borne it if Djura was Pinako's _alter_. But in this case, it was fortunate for him most of Djura was swathed in the all-emcompassing mode of dress known as a _chador_.

The effect it gave Djura was somewhat like a walking black cloud with eyes. They were big and brown like Khadija's, but where the younger woman's shone soft and warm, Djura's glared with a harsh light. Edward could see why the children were wary of her. Even he obeyed when told to get back into bed. "You slept for over sixteen hours," she said with a sour note in her voice. "That is too long, your body will never get back into it's normal rhythms."

_My body hasn't been in a normal rhythm for a __long_ _time_, Edward wanted to say, but he couldn't summon the nerve when eye-to-eye with Djura. She bent down and stared hard at him. "I can see you have been sickly for many years, but I have much experience in nursing. I shall make you well again."

She made it sound like a threat.

Once Edward was sitting up against the headboard, she set the short-legged tray over his lap.

Edward's mouth watered helplessly after Djura swept the cloth cover off the top, and set the aromas free. A selection of bowls contained a fragrant mound of olive oil, garlic and mashed chick peas called _hummus_, a small quantity of plain yogurt, a pile of shredded lamb, and some triangles of lightly toasted pita bread respectively.

Before he ate, he dipped his fingers into a fifth bowl which contained warm water, then he dried his fingers on a cloth napkin next to it. He noted Djura's eyes flashed briefly at the sight of his right hand, but she didn't say anything. Edward plucked out a piece of pita bread, and dredged it first in the yogurt, then the hummus, and finally the meat before popping it into his mouth. He briefly closed his eyes against the sensory overload of delicious flavors while he chewed and swallowed.

When he opened them again, Djura's eyes seemed to be radiating approval, although only a bit. "I shall give you a bath after you've finished lunch." Her tone made it sound like another threat and it hung in the air after she spun on one heel and left the room.

Edward hadn't expected a bath like this. Two men wrestled a shallow metal bowl into the room, a bowl so large it took up most of the space between the bed and the opposite wall. They were followed by four girls carrying earthenware pitchers which they poured into the bowl, filling it with steaming hot water. A fifth girl left her full pitcher on top of a small chest of drawers. Once they left, Djura re-entered the room, she carried a small bowl in one hand, and towels in the other. She nodded her head in approval at his cleaned plate before ordering him to remove his clothing.

Edward moved back to the edge of the bed and undressed to his blue boxers while Djura unpacked a cake of soap,two corked bottles, and a sponge from the other bowl. Her brown eyes snapped with fury, "All your clothing, Mr. Elric! Every last stitch!"

Edward blanched and his eyes widened. Once he'd been toilet trained, and capable of bathing himself, no woman, not even his beloved mother had seen him naked since. Djura was unmoved by his protestations of modesty. "I've seen three husbands and five sons naked, nothing about men can shock me."

He sighed and dropped the boxers before stepping into the water. First, she made him kneel down so she could wash his hair. The bottles contained homemade shampoo, and conditioner, and she poured water from the spare pitcher over his head. Djura squeezed excess water out of his hair and wrapped it in a towel before proceeding with the bath. Edward stood up and let her wash him, but he tried to grab the sponge when it came close to his "naughty bits". She slapped his hand away, and blushing scarlet, he was forced to endure the indignity of being touched _there._

Fed, bathed and dressed, Edward reclined in a chair in the courtyard a few hours later. He was dozing on the edge of conscousness under the warm sun, and even the water trickling from a central fountain seemed to be murmuring more quietly. Or maybe he was just tired out from exercise. After he dressed in fresh clothes, Djura had made him walk around the courtyard's perimeter for an hour. "Your body needs exercise as much as it needs rest."

Suddenly, a large gang of children swarmed into the courtyard and shattered the quiet into a thousand pieces. "Come with us, mister!" they chorused. "We've been told to hide you!"

Hands grabbed Edward and pulled him out of the chair before hauling him to the opposite end of the courtyard and through an archway. Bemused, Edward allowed himself to be manhandled across another small courtyard, under yet another arch, and eventually into a windowless storeroom. He was shoved to the floor behind several earthenware jars, then a blanket was thrown over him.

A voice he recognized as belonging to the same little girl whispered in his ear, "You must be very quiet, _djinn_, for they are looking for you!"

**A/N #2:** Thanks to my brother John who gave me advice on the presentation and eating of hummus.


	42. Paradise Lost

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA, I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile.

**Author's note: **post series and very AU. Some movie events will happen, but differently

**Warning: **May contain movie spoilers. Will contain violence,death, and maybe sex.

_42. Paradise Lost_

Ernst Draco sat and seethed on the back seat of the embassy car.

The right amount of money into the right hands usually set the most reluctant tongues to wagging, and he was _sure_ the information about Elric was correct. So sure, he had obtained forged extradition papers and gone to the village police with them. A little waving around of official-looking papers, some fast talking, a man hired to pose as a government official from Cairo, a little more money and the village headman himself willingly accompanied the Germans to the Forbes house.

They searched for over two hours and turned up _- nothing_. _Nixen. _

The Americans had such charming slang terms and he ran a few through his head. _Zip. Zilch. Squat_.

But Americans were lowly mongrels, just like the British dogs. Ernst angrily shook his head and attempted to drive that stray thought of Americans from his mind. If things had gone according to plan, Edward Elric would now be laying in a drug-induced slumber on the opposite seat. By dusk he would be loaded onto a Germany-bound zeppelin and Ernst Draco would have been richly rewarded for capturing the Shambalan.

It all seemed so easy just over a week ago. Their quarry had malaria and was unable to flee. Ernst hoped the day he'd gone to that British pig and told that convincing lie, that Howard would happily hand him over. But then that Forbes stepped in and said Elric was too ill to be moved. Stung by his failure, Ernst had returned to Luxor and brooded until he'd heard Howard had fired the tutor and given him just a week to recover. Ernst changed his plan accordingly. Yesterday, he and some embassy "muscle" laid in wait a half mile from the Nile ferry stage. They gave up at eight o'clock and drove hopefully down the main road towards Isis House. But the road lay empty and shimmering in the moonlight, Elric had given them the slip.

Until this morning when word came from locals he paid to spy on the British and American archealogists that Forbes had taken Elric to his house. But his high hopes had been shot down for the third time.

Hot and dusty, Ernst Draco sweated on the back seat and let his anger simmer. Once he got back to his rented house in Luxor, he would pour himself a very large glass of schnapps and make new plans for Elric's capture.

"I understand we've had some excitement here today," Dr. Alonzo Forbes said when he came into the kitchen area of his house after another long day of tending to the sick and injured of the area. He carried his medical bag in one hand, and a jar of pomegranite jelly - payment from one patient who had no money - in the other. Khadija was preparing the evening meal with help from Djura and some other women, but she put down the pot she'd been holding to greet her husband. They kissed, a quick peck on the lips and he handed her the jar. She took it with a smile and a nod, then jerked her head in the direction of the table in the dining room.

With a worried look on his face, Edward sat on a bench seat and traced ghost images of transmutation circles on the table's scrubbed wooden surface with his left index finger. Whenever something bothered him, his hand would move of it's own accord in this fashion while he brooded so deeply, he usually didn't realize what he was doing until someone disturbed him. Dr. Forbes set his bag on the table and watched the nervous movements for a moment before he touched the hand.

Edward jerked in surprise, then stilled when he saw who it was. He eyed Alonzo from underneath his bangs, "I should leave," he said quietly. "My presence is putting all of you in danger."

"Nonsense!" Alonzo grunted. He had opened his bag and retrieved a thermometer from it, then bent down and stuck it in Edward's mouth. He felt the younger man's forehead. "That sleep marathon was just what you needed, you your fever is gone, and you look much better." His fingers circled Edward's left wrist and took his pulse. "But you need to relax, your heart is pounding like a jackhammer."

A shudder ran through Edward's small frame and he spoke up once the thermometer was removed.

"I can't help it, Dr. Forbes. These people are utterly ruthless, they won't stop and they won't be bothered if innocent people get hurt, or killed - until - until they have control of me." Edward's voice steadily rose in volume as tears seeped from his eyes and rolled down his cheeks to drip on the table top.

Alonzo was only slightly surprised when Edward clapped hands over his face and burst into tears. This young man had endured stresses which would have broken down stronger people weeks ago. He put his arms around Edward's shaking shoulders, then pulled him close and let him cry. Like he did for his own children, Alonzo rubbed Edward's back and whispered soothing words until the crying jag wound down.

He handed the snuffling Edward a large white handkerchief, and waited patiently while he wiped reddened eyes and tear-stained cheeks, then blew his nose with a loud _honk_.

"Feel a bit better?" Edward smiled sheepishly before he nodded, his cheeks stained red.

"Very good, Mr. Elric. I think you'll be fit to travel in another few days. That will give us time to formulate an escape plan for you. These Germansmay have money and power, but we have pluck and cunning. They have badly underestimated us and that is how we shall outwit them."


	43. Subterfuge

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own FMA, I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile

**Author's note:** post series, some movie events will happen, but differently

**Warning:** May contain movie spoilers, will contain violence, death, and maybe sex.

_43. Subterfuge_ (Subterfuge)

Ernst Draco was sitting at his desk and filing his fingernails when the phone call came: Dr. Forbes had just driven onto the Luxor car ferry with a patient. Although outwardly calm when he hung up, Draco's heart was pounding as he dialed an extension number and rapped out instructions. The embassy car was waiting on the other side when the dented and rusty white Ford ambulance rolled off the ferry and was followed to the train station.

Two more henchemen awaited there as the vehicle backed up to the platform. The doors popped open to reveal Dr. Forbes and one of his wife's many male relatives. They opened the back doors of the ambulance and eased out a stretcher with a blanket covered figure on it. A couple of porters assisted them to a Pullman sleeper car, the whole party passing right by the two Nazis. The patient was heavily blanketed and appeared to be asleep, they could see a flash of blonde hair and a reddened, sweaty face.

"Poor chap had a relapse, he's beyond my help so I'm taking him to the hospital in Cairo before it's too late," Dr. Forbes tersely said to the conductor of the noon train to Cairo. One of the two henchmen ran to the ticket office while the his companion watched which compartment the little party would take. He saw curtains flick shut on his side and smiled wickedly before he returned to the car and leaned in to impart this information to the driver.

The first Nazi was back with the tickets by the time he returned to the platform. This capture would be easy, they agreed as they took seats in a second-class train carriage. The conductor shouted, "All Aboard!", and blew his whistle. The engine answered with it's own toot before the noon train chugged it's way out of the station on it's long journey to Cairo. Dr. Alonzo Forbes sighed as he peeked between the curtains of the sleeper compartment while the train left the suburbs of Luxor behind and gathered speed. "We're clear!"

"ARGH!" With a strangled cry, Djura sat up in the bed, threw off the blankets, yanked off the blonde wig and gestured to her son Mukhtar. He knew what she wanted and promptly handed over the glass of milk which his mother grabbed in both hands and poured down her throat in three large gulps. A more normal color gradually returned to her face while she panted, thin runnels of milk seeping from the corners of her mouth.

"I think Khadija used too many peppers in that dish, I could have spit fire after eating them! It took all my self control to lie still and not cry out until the train was moving."

Alonzo first gave her a dazzling smile and then he bowed, "You did splendidly Djura! I don't think Madame Barrymore could have surpassed your performance. We've fooled the Germans into thinking Mr. Elric is on this train, now it's all up to Khadija and that flyboy cousin of mine."

Tears streamed from Edward's eyes and he rapidly fanned his face with one hand. It was all his fault, because Khadija had warned him the pepper stew would be very, very hot. With great reluctance, he picked up the glass of goat's milk she'd set in front of him and sipped from it. The thought of drinking milk made his insides squirm but those peppers were frying the insides of his mouth.

The first sip of the goat's milk eased the burn - a little - and Edward finally gave in and emptied the glass to the dregs. "Ahhh..." he gasped and set the glass down on the table top, and imagined steam coming out of his ears. He blew out a breath and slumped forward onto his elbows. He hoped Alonzo, Djura and Mukhtar would be all right, they were taking a big risk in helping him escape. But Edward didn't get much more time to think because a loud engine noise was coming fast and seemingly right above his head.

"He's here!" the children cried excitedly and they dashed outside, taking all the noise with them. Edward raised one blond eyebrow at Khadija, she and Alonzo had been rather cagey about the latter part of the plan. All Alonzo would say was they would distract the Germans while Edward made his escape in a different direction.

"Edward," Khadija's voice was soft and warm, just like her smile. "It is time for you to go now. Have a safe journey." She handed him a small box wrapped in a kerchief. "Some food for you, but nothing containing peppers."

He took the box in one hand, draped his coat over the opposite arm,and picked up his suitcase. Together they walked through the house, passing through three courtyards and innumerable doorways until the last door opened right onto the empty desert. A few feet away, like some sort of exotic winged insect stood a bi-plane painted purple and black. The children crowded around the plane oohing and ahhing, touching the tires, the struts, the wires and cables between the wings.

Near the plane stood a large man dressed in tall brown boots, tan jodhpurs, and a black leather coat. Edward couldn't see his face too well because the lower half was covered by a droopy blond mustache, the upper by a leather flying cap, and goggles. The man's mouth split in a huge grin when he saw them.

"Khadija! How grand to see you again!" Edward noted he had incredibly large, square teeth and they reminded him so of Major Armstrong, he wouldn't have been surprised to see pink sparkles erupt around his head. "Alonzo told me we're going to have a spot of Jerry-foolery, what fun, eh?"


	44. Come Fly With Me

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own FMA, I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile

**Author's note:** post series. Some movie events may happen, but differently

**Warning:** May contain movie spoilers. Will contain violence and death, maybe sex.

**Beta:** Moi

_44. Come Fly With Me_ (Gekommene Fliege mit mir)

His full name was Harold William George Ffolkestone-Higley.

"But you can just call me 'Biggles' if you like," he said, right after he walloped Ed on the shoulder with enough force to nearly knock him down. "I consider it a badge of honor, wot?"

Edward just smiled and nodded weakly. _Biggles_. The stereotypical British flying ace of the Great War. He recalled Patrick reading some boy's magazine that featured serializations of the adventures of this Biggles character. The stories were harmless fun, but Edward didn't ever expect to meet a Biggles archetype in the flesh.

He wanted to go back to bed,. No, he wanted to hide _under _the bed.

"So, Edward, how do you like my kite?" Harold (_"Just plain 'Harry' is fine too._") swept his leather gloved hand in the direction of the plane. "I call it the 'Flying Nefertiti'. Isn't she the most beautiful thing you ever laid eyes on? Well, I mean," the visible portions of Harry's face flushed red, "After Khadija, and Djura, of course."

The compliment made Khadija broaden her already brilliant smile. She was not a vain woman, but flattery was nice. "Harold, this won't get you into trouble, will it?"

"Pish-posh, I have to fly to Morocco anyways, a passenger now and then is allowed and will be good company." He turned to Edward and frowned slightly. "You have a coat, but that won't be enough at ten thousand feet. Hang on a tic, I have just the thing!"

He walked back with long strides to his plane and came back with a white cable knit sweater, and he popped it over a startled Edward's head without warning. It must have been made for a giant because the bottom hem drooped past his hips while the sleeve ends hung down well past his fingertips. Harry stepped back, and with hands on his hips beamed at Edward. "Excellent, now just put on your coat and button it all the way up and Bob's your uncle!"

_He is?_ Edward thought just before something came slamming down on his head, obscuring his vision and pulling his hair unti it hurt. "OW!"

"Oh, sorry, old chap. You're going to have to do something about that ponytail. Here, why don't you let me cut it off?"

"NEVER!" Any suggestion he bow to convention and cut his hair just made Edward more determined to wear it long. He reached back to pull out the hair tie, and re-do his ponytail lower. His bangs would get crushed underneath the flying cap, but that was all right. Edward re-adjusted the cap before he secured the buckle under his chin. Harry just grinned at his defiant glare and handed him some leather gloves. Edward pulled them on over the white cotton ones he wore, but they still came well past his wrists.

Edward wondered if he would have to put his suitcase down by his feet, but Harry unlocked a door in the side of the 'Flying Nefertiti' to reveal a small storage compartment. His suitcase was stowed next to a smaller one and the door was re-secured. "Well, then," Harry said as he straigtened up, "This is _cheerio_ for now, my dear Khadija. Tell Alonzo I'll pop in on my next return trip, all right?"

The goodbyes seemed to take forever. Edward was obliged to kneel down awkwardly and hug each child. They had gotten attached to him in the week he'd spent recuperating, and the younger ones were in tears. Those grabbed his arms and begged him to stay, and it took some time for Khadija and the older children to peel them off. Harry had hugged Khadija without reserve, but Edward settled for a more formal bow before boarding. He used the handholds on the side of the plane to climb up to the rear cockpit, but despite his slight frame, it was still a tight squeeze. Harry climbed up and showed him how to buckle the straps before he clambered into the front seat and secured his own belt.

One of the oldest boys got the honor of turning the propeller. "Contact!" he shouted and the engine came to life with a roar. Edward ducked his head against the sudden rush of air and pulled the goggles down over his eyes. Everyone on the ground was waving to him and Edward waved back while the plane began to roll forward. Harry aimed the propeller east and the 'Flying Nefertiti' gained speed, and the engine roar became louder.

Edward looked over the side and saw the ground rushing past in a blur. He thought he heard Harry shout, "Up we go!" and suddenly Edward felt weightless. He looked over the side again and gasped at the sight of Egypt rapidly receding beneath him. His heart leapt into his throat when Harry banked hard left, and the plane kept climbing into the air.

They passed several hundred feet over Luxor and the plane raced north towards Cairo, following the rail line. A trail of smoke gradually came into view, and then the noon train to Cairo could be seen steaming along. Harry flew over the entire length to the engine, which tooted as if in greeting. He waggled the wings (this made Edward _very_ nervous) in a salute before veering left on a straight westerly course towards the continent of Africa.

Several hours later, an enraged Ernst Draco was throwing objects: paperweights, an inkwell, framed photographs, and several pens about his office after receiving a phone call from Cairo. His henchmen were in position, ready to follow and then capture Elric, but there was a slight problem. He wasn't on the train! After the Pullman sleeper door opened, Dr. Forbes, his assistant - and a lady in a black _chador _emerged. When the trio came abreast of the Germans, the lady turned to them and pulled a blonde wig from the folds of her garment before she triumphantly waved it in their faces and laughed.

Ernst leaned against his desk and ran the fingers of one hand through his tangled hair. "I'm so sorry, so very sorry. I really thought we had the Shambalan this time!" He started when an opened cigarette case was brought up to his face by his visitor. Ernst selected one with trembling fingers and stuck it between his lips before leaning forward to ignite the cigarette when a light was also offered. He took a deep puff and exhaled a vast cloud of smoke which circled lazily towards the ceiling. He rubbed at his gritty eyes with the heel of his free hand. His visitor, an unremarkable looking man with brown hair, brown eyes, and a narrow brown mustache regarded Ernst with a bland stare.

"I'm sorry too, Herr Draco. You are a nice young man, but you had more than three chances to complete your mission Failure is not an option." The man pulled a silence equipped automatic pistol out of an inner coat pocket and shot Ernst Draco once between the eyes.

He died instantly, yet his wide open eyes seemed to register astonishment at the neatly smoking hole in his forehead. Ernst slid to his knees before he toppled forward. At the last second, his body went sideways and he landed on his back. "Well," his killer grunted. "At least he died like a German."

The third man moved towards the body, but was called back. "Leave him, Rudolph. The others will see he gets a proper burial. I must report to Berlin before I start tracking this Shambalan down. He's a wily fellow and I do so enjoy the thrill of a good hunt."

"Ja wohl, Herr Doktor."

**Author's note #2:** Any guesses as to the new player in this game?


	45. Down To Earth

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA. I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile

**Author's note:** Post movie and slightly AU.

**Warning: **may contain movie spoilers. Has and will contain violence and death, possibly sex.

**Beta:** Moi

_45: Down To Earth_ (Nüchtern)

Dublin, Ireland. October 30, 1934

When his alarm clock rang, Edward awoke with a start before his left hand fumbled around on the bedside table to silence the insistant clanging. He lay quietly for a a few minutes and tried to wake up. _This is useless_. He would fall back asleep if he stayed where he was. Couldn't be late for work today.

Edward sat up, threw the covers back and shivered when the chilly air touched his bare right foot. But he kept moving until his legs dangled over the beds side. He stretched and yawned, then stretched some more. _Ugh_. Today was his first day back at work after the latest bout with malaria. He had been out for nearly three weeks - first eight days flat on his back in a hospital bed - followed by another eight at a convalescent home to regain his strength.

He hadn't been in a hospital for years, but the experience hadn't changed since the last time. White sheets, white walls, brusque nurses, the smell of disinfectant, a thermometer stuck in without so much as an _excuse me, would you please open your mouth?_ He tried not to remember the embarassment of the rectal variety. It simply re-inforced his dislike of hospitals. And doctors.

Plus all the questions about his prosthetic limbs made him nervous. He was always afraid too much of a fuss would eventually get back to certain people. That fear made it impossible to stay in one place for too long. The constant moving around made it hard for Edward to save enough money for his new goal: America. The one place he would be safe from pursuit

_Six and a half years ago..._

Edward hunkered down in the cockpit, closed his eyes and tried to sleep. But the persistant engine noise, and the even more persistant cold made it impossible. Harry hadn't been kidding when he said it would be cold ten thousand feet up. It penetrated through Edward's coat, the sweater, his clothes, and through his skin right to the bones. His face and head were already so cold he couldn't feel his jaw. Not even after his teeth began to chatter. It took a very special kind of man to endure the rigors of flying. And it was clear to Edward he wasn't one of them.

His heart flew up into his mouth when the plane began to descend. But the air gradually warmed and Edward thawed out in time to enjoy the sights of animals he'd never seen racing along beneath the plane. He smiled in delight when he saw several massive grey beasts ambling along in a parallel course. _Elephants!_ Edward watched until they fell behind, he then gulped and grabbed his harness when the "Flying Nefertiti" was suddenly buffeted by errant winds. The plane crossed a line of low hills and a shallow valley spread out below. The plane dipped lower and seemed to be aimed towards a cluster of low buildings the same color as the ground.

Sketched out in the dirt next to them was a runway, and a nearby pole with a windsock barely attached showed the wind was blowing at roughly a right angle. The plane yawed and pitched as it came closer and closer to the ground, before the wheels made contact with a hard _thud!_, then bounced back up. The "Flying Nefertiti" came down a second time, then bounced twice more before slewing off the runway and into some scrub brush. Harry fought the controls and the plane rose high enough to miss a pile of rocks, the nose then dipped abruptly and a tremendous crash announced the end of the flight.

Edward had closed his eyes after the first thud, and kept them closed until a ringing silence told him the engine noise had stopped. He opened them and looked. The propellor of the "Flying Nefertiti" was smashed to bits, and the engine half buried in the dirt of Africa. The wings weren't straight any more,most of the struts were snapped in two (or three), and the plane was oddly bent between the two cockpits. This resulted in Edward being nearly vertical in the air, only the straps of his harness preventing his plummeting to the ground.

Harry turned about in his seat, pulled up his goggles, and waved at Edward. "Welcome to Africa! A bit of a cock-up about the landing, sorry about that, wot!"

Edward ground his teeth and growled low in his throat. _If I survive this, I'm going to kill him!_


	46. Call Me Bwana

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA. I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile.

**Author's note:** post series, some movie events may happen, but differently

**Warning:** May contain movie spoilers. Has contained and may contain more violence, and death. Perhaps sex - I just haven't made up my mind yet.

**Beta:** moi for now

_46. Call Me Bwana_ (Mich anrufen Bwana)

Harry unbuckled his harness and hopped out of the cockpit with a big grin on his face. "Wait here while I fetch a ladder and some help, Edward. I won't be long!"

He undid the chin strap of his flying cap and pulled it off to reveal a long face topped by a shock of spiky blond hair balanced by the long mustache.

Edward could only gawk in shock: _It's Havoc's alter!_

His father had warned him about alters, exact copies of people he'd known in his world. They looked the same, had the same (or similar sounding) name, their voices were the same,, and they sometimes held the same type of job.

Except for one important aspect: they weren't the same person.

_A friend in Amestris will be a complete stranger, perhaps even an enemy here, Edward. And the opposite can also be true. You must be wary, just in case the alter is the former._

The Jean Havoc Edward remembered was a gregarious chain smoking dreamer who had no luck with women. He looked like a slacker, but he really was a brave soldier, dedicated to Colonel Mustang, and his comrades in arms. Harry appeared to be just as likeable, if a bit over the top.

_Oh, heck, he's a LOT over the top!_

Edward grunted with discomfort and wriggled in the harness, it was digging into his flesh and he was sweating due to his extra garments. He felt around on the webbing before he found the buckles which strapped him in place. Edward began to slide forward as each was loosened, so he braced his feet on the edges of the cockpit. Once the last buckle was open, Edward bent his knees until his hands could grab the edges, then he turned over on his stomach.

He slid over the edge in that position and felt for the toeholds on the side of the "Flying Nefertiti" and slowly inched his way down to the final depression. He hung suspended in midair for a moment before he let go. The ground came up sooner than he expected, Edward bent his knees to absorb the impact, yet still lost his balance and fell in a clumsy heap. The fall had knocked some wind out of him and he sat and panted until he felt hot breath on the back of his neck.

He whirled around and stared at the intruder. Which bared it's teeth and growled back after he exclaimed. "You have to be the world's ugliest dog!"

It's fur was a mottled black and red, the forelegs were longer than the hind legs, and the eyes were too small in relation to the massive block-shaped head. The fangs were a deep yellow, and the tip of the upper left one was missing. And it's breath...

"Shoo! Go home! Bad dog! " Edward yelled when the animal lunged at him. He didn't even pause to think and just lashed out with his right hand. A loud yelp and a fine spray of blood followed the sounds of breaking teeth, the animal fell down, but got up immediately, still growling. The sound seemed to echo, until Edward realized he was surrounded by a pack of the ugly brutes. He scrambled to his feet, backed up against the plane and wished he could transmute his metal arm into a blade.

_What're these things? Could they be chimeras?_ He half expected to hear a whistle, and see the mad Shou Tucker come striding out of the bush. What he DID hear were sharp cracks of rifles firing, followed by several yelps as first one, and then two more of the animals fell, writhing in pain. Edward looked up to see four men running towards him, all armed with rifles.

"Are you crazy, man?" shouted the nearest, a brawny man with a black crewcut. He spoke in the strangest accent, one Edward couldn't place. "You don't muck about with hyaenas, they'll rip your throat out."

"Is that what they are?" Edward blew out the breath he'd been holding. "I just thought they were extremely ugly dogs. Besides, I couldn't stand it hanging around in that damn harness anymore."

"Hmph!" the man loomed close over Edward, then bent down till they were nose - to - nose. "You were high up though, and that was the safest place for you. We're having a rather nasty drought right now and even the hyaenas are starving. And that makes them bold, unafraid of humans. Some poor devils in a nearby village were eaten alive by lions last week."

A strange yipping, which sounded like human laughter, followed by a loud roaring broke out several yards away. "Bloody hell! Lions have smelled death already! Your gear will be safe for now, not even the boldest thief will risk becoming cat food. Let's go back to the terminal."

With Edward in the center, the group walked out of the bush, and across the runway. Just before they entered the largest building, Edward looked up and read a sign painted above the main door:

**AEROPORT INTERNATIONAL D'ALGER**

_This has to be a joke, right?_


	47. Come To The Casbah

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA, I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile.

**Author's note:** post series, some movie events will happen, but differently

**Warning:** may contain movie spoilers. Has contained and will contain violence and death. Maybe sex.

**Beta:** Moi, for now

_47. Come To The Casbah_ (Zum Casbah kommen)

A violent thunderstorm rolled in that night and brought some relief from the drought. While lying on a rickety cot, Edward rolled over on his stomach and jammed the pillow over his head in a van attempt to block out crashes of thunder so loud they shook the entire building. They discovered next morning that the resulting flash flood had dug the "Flying Nefertiti" out of its grave before depositing it in the middle of the airport's only landing strip. After that, it was easy to roll the battered remains into a hanger where Harry gave its broken nose a consoling pat. "Poor dear, you've had a rough landing. But I'll make you beautiful again, I promise."

Behind the hangar were several piles of airplane parts - propellors, wings, struts, wheels, steering mechanisms, and assorted "guts" - all neatly sorted and protected from the elements by canvas shelters. Edward surmised these were cannabalized from aircraft wrecked by other fliers, until Bill (the man with the black crewcut) informed him "all these kites were personally pranged by Harry." And then he laughed wickedly when Edward's face turned even paler.

If he'd known _that_ before leaving Egypt, he would have run back into Alonzo's house and hidden in one of the storage rooms. Or he would have taken his chances on the noon train to Cairo and hoped to avoid Herr Draco. But it was too late now. He was in the middle of Algeria, and surrounded by miles of trackless plains full of hungry carnivors who would be happy to make a meal of him, metal prosthetics and all. "Y'see, Ed, it's this way. Harry was a courier during the war and avoiding German planes made him a great flier. He's one of the best take-off men I've ever seen, even when the runway was torn up by shelling. But the trouble is, he still needs more work on his landings."

Edward rolled his eyes. _Maybe if I walk really, really fast, I can make it to Casablanca in a month._

Harry didn't give him a chance to even think about it because he began repairs immediately. A new propeller came from one pile, struts from another, wings and wheels from two other piles. The engine took a while longer and in the end the it was rebuilt from the carcasses of three other engines. In just under a week, the "Flying Nefertiti" was whole again, if looking a bit like Dr. Frankenstein's monster because the replacement bits were all different colors. The bi-wings were red, green, blue and white, and the fabric patches covering the fresh repairs to the midsection were gray and black.

Just after dawn the next day, Harry and Edward were back on the runway and waving goodbye to Bill and the rest. Then Harry opened the throttle and the "Flying Nefertiti" rolled down the runway before she soared gracefully back into the sky. He circled the airport once, waggled the wings in salute and set off westward to Morocco. Edward hunched down in his seat and welcomed the numbing cold. _Maybe if my brain freezes, I can stop worrying about Harry crashing when he tries to land._

To his great relief, the landing at Casablanca was a bit rough, but the "Flying Nefertiti" came down in one piece.

They took a horse drawn cab into the city itself and Harry checked them into rooms at an inexpensive hotel. Still cold from the flight, and tired out because he couldn't sleep, Edward lay down on a narrow bed to nap for a few hours. He splashed cold water on his face after waking up, then spread his coat out on the bed and dug into one of the hidden pockets. Time to change his identity again. Edward spread the false passports out like a hand of cards on the bed, closed his eyes, and selected one. He opened the book to the first page:

_Name: Edward Smith - Jones_

_Birthplace: Vancouver, Canada_

_Date of birth: May 18, 1905_

Edward memorized the data. First he'd been Swedish. Now he was Canadian. He wondered if his father or the maker of the false papers had chosen these random dates and places.

_Father's name: Harold Jones_

_Birthplace: London, England_

_Date of birth: June 12, 1881_

_Mother's name: Belinda Smith-Jones_

_Birthplace: Bury St. Edmonds, England_

_Date of birth: September 11, 1883_

Hmm. Canadian of British ancestry, common enough not to arouse suspicion. He was replacing the other passports in the hidden pocket when he became aware of an unpleasant odor. After a quick sniff, Edward realized the odor was coming from him. The room didn't have a proper bath, so he washed up at the sink and changed into fresh (if a bit wrinkled) clothing. A knock came on the door as he was re-doing his ponytail. "Come in!" he called.

Harry stood there with the same irrepressible grin on his face. Mostly because he had a pretty girl on each arm. "Edward! It's just gone seven, time for a spot of din-din, wot? " He handed one of the girls off to Edward. "Here's your escort for tonight, Ginger Beere, meet ..."

"Smith-Jones, Edward Smith-Jones. I'm very pleased to meet you, Ginger." Edward took her offered hand and bowed over it, barely brushing the skin with his lips. Ginger was dressed in the height of fashion in a dark blue low-waisted dress, with a matching cloche hat pulled low over her marceled blonde hair. Her cornflower blues eyes widened and her red painted lips rounded with surprise.

She simpered and giggled, "What lovely manners you have! Where do you come from, handsome?"

"Vancouver. Vancouver, Canada, but my mum and dad were English." Edward mused to himself how easily the newly minted lies tripped off his tongue. Plus how un-guilty he felt about lying. In a space of barely three months, prevaricating was now second nature as a survival mechanism.

The remaining girl, who was cooing over the size of Harry's left bicep broke off her admiration long enough to squeal, "My! You're a long way from home!" Edward smiled, nodded and murmured in agreement. _Yes, yes I am __very__ far from my home._

"Come with me to the Casbah, m'dear," Harry chuckled smoothly. "I know this lovely cafe in the Old Quarter, it's called Rick's, and is run by this Yank with a rather dodgy past. But the food is good and the piano fellow can play somewhat. I think you'll like it."

**Author's note #2:** OK, who gets the movie reference in the final paragraph? Virtual chocolate chip cookies for those who guess correctly!


	48. What Happens In Casablanca

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA, just my my OCs. I like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile

**Author's note: **post series, some movie events will happen, but differently

**Warning:** may contain movie spoilers. Has and will contained violence and death. This chapter features a little spritz of "lemon". Those under the age of 21 should cover their eyes.

**Beta**: Moi, for now.

_48 What Happens In Casablanca..._ (Was in den Casablanca...)

Casablanca, Morocco. March 21, 1928

"Mmph." A metal hand cautiously pulled sheets off a sleepy face until the morning sunlight shone full upon it. Edward peeled one eye open, before he groaned and shut it again, then yanked the covers back over his head. "Ohhh!"

His head was pounding as if _The Anvil Chorus_ was thundering away inside his temples. _How much did I drink last night_? It must have been too much because he couldn't remember exactly what he'd done after the others goaded him into drinking that third whiskey and soda. Or, had it been the fourth? Fifth? Sixth? Edward was having considerable trouble recalling the exact number. He said aloud, "So this is what a hangover feels like."

Edward's voice was barely above a whisper, yet it sounded too loud to his aching head. He shut his eyes tightly, but they snapped open a moment later when a female voice muttered sleepily, "Mmm? Did you say something?"

He moved his head slowly,ever so slowly to the left and his eyes met the cornflower blue orbs of Ginger Beere. A langorous, and faintly knowing smile crawled slowly across her face, "Hullo, tiger. You were incredible last night."

Three hours later, Edward slumped in a chair at a small cafe and moodily nursed a fizzing drink Harry claimed was a sure-fire hangover cure. The agony in his temples had subsided to a dull throb which beat in time with the roiling misery in his guts, caused by the knowledge of what occured last night. Ginger and her companion were actually prostitutes Harry knew from previous visits to Casablanca and he'd decided the much-too-sober Edward needed to have a little "fun". Ginger volunteered for the job.

He'd offered Edward the first whiskey and soda before their "spot of din-din" and the party kept on drinking after supper. Somewhere along the line, they eventually left Rick's Cafe and made the rounds of some of Casablanca's other "gin joints" and had some more drinks. Many more drinks. And then he was back in his hotel room, with Ginger, she had him backed against one wall, and they were kissing. Passionately. He couldn't remember how they got there, or why he was embracing her, because large chunks of his memory appeared to be missing.

He was still holding up that wall when she unzipped his trousers, knelt down and did "things" with her mouth and tongue that turned what remained of his higher brain functions to mush. After a few minutes of sensations that had Edward moaning with pleasure, they moved to the bed and had sex . More than once, Ginger claimed, although he couldn't quite recall the experiences. Fortunately. Discovering Ginger in his bed was bad enough, but finding out she was naked was even worse. After he'd lifted the sheets to see his own nude body - he didn't reallly want to think about that - Edward blushed scarlet with shame.

Harry finished his brunch, sat back and drained his cup of coffee and burped loudly. Edward threw him a sour look, he had barely touched his own plate because nausea burbled threateningly at the mere thought of eating. He took another sip of the fizzing drink and grimaced at the foul taste. Harry signaled to a waiter for more coffee, then turned to Edward after his cup was filled, "How long are you going to sulk, old chap? I thought you were enjoying yourself last night. Ginger certainly enjoyed _you_."

Edward's face reddened and Harry laughed.The sound shot thorough his sore head like a drill, and he winced with pain. "Please, Harry, not so loud. I'll take your word for it about last night, but I don't think I will ever drink again. I never knew it was possible to be in such agony afterwards."

"You just aren't used to alcohol, but with another month of practice, you'll be holding your liquor with the best of them." Harry seemed bound and determined that Edward lose his innocence, but he was more worried about Alonzo and Djura. Were they harmed after their subterfuge was discoverd in Cairo? He massaged his aching temples and groaned, just thinking made his _brain_ hurt.

Dublin, Ireland. October 30, 1934

He hurried through his preparations, but still got out the door of the apartment building later than he liked. With a slice of buttered toast between his teeth, Edward jogged down the sidewalk while thrusting his right arm through the sleeve of his coat. He was on the verge of stopping to button it when the roar of a diesel engine announced the bus was coming to the stop nearest his home. He bit off a piece of the toast and broke into a dead run, his right hand scrabbling in a coat pocket for his bus pass.

Edward made it by the skin of his teeth, and the bus was already moving by the time he flopped back into the last empty seat. He stared sightlessly ahead and ate his toast, because his brain was already churning away on today's lesson plan. The bus filled up with other morning commuters, and he eventually moved next to a window to make room for a plump lady in a green checked coat. Squashed in his seat, Edward smiled and nodded at her, then he let his mind drift back to work. The street around the bus was choked with cars, trucks and other busses, so he never noticed the black sedan that followed him.


	49. Fragile Freedom

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA, I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile

**Author's note:** Post series, some movie events may happen, but differently

**Warning:** may contain movie spoilers. Has contained and will contain violence, death, and sex.

**Beta:** Moi for now.

_49. Fragile Freedom_ (Empfindliche Freiheit)

Edward stayed in Casablanca for nearly eight months,and Harry used his contacts to find him a job teaching English to the children of minor Moroccan civil servants. He enjoyed his work even if it wasn't concerned with the "hard" sciences he was used to: physics, and chemistry. The children were bright, although a few of the boys liked to push the envelope to see what they could get away with. Rambunctious eight to ten year olds weren't exactly the same as the serious twenty-somethings his father taught at Munich University, but Edward had observed Hohenheim's methods closely. What he remembered was quick wit and an even quicker tongue were more effective than shouting at the students and punishing them with extra work.

After a few days of "feeling" each other out, Edward and his dozen or so ('or so" because some were rather _casual_ about attending school) students got on swimmingly. Just prior to starting the new job, Edward also moved his few possessions from the hotel to lodgings near the Old Quarter, and within walking distance of the school. The three rooms - sitting room, kitchen, and bedroom - plus a small bathroom were very pleasant, but bare of all but basic appliances. With the last of the wages from Major Howard, Edward visisted the _souk_ (marketplace) and purchased some furniture and kitchenware.

A month later, he went back for a bookcase, because he'd made so many visits to the booksellers in the market Ginger convinced him he couldn't stack books on the floor anymore. A comfortable chair, a reading lamp and books within reach were all Edward needed, so it was a good thing he also had Ginger Beere who prodded him to add curtains, rugs, artwork and some potted plants to his bachelor digs. The woman who had so horrified Edward his first morning in Casablanca was now his _de facto_ girlfriend. Among other things, she taught him how affairs ran in Casablanca. Edward learned how to haggle with vendors, cook something edible and prevent his apartment from turning into a pig-sty.

Nearly eight months after he'd landed with a thud in Casablanca, the life Edward was building for himself was rudely torn to shreds. His landlord one afternoon made an innocent remark about two men with German accents who said they were friends had come inquiring about him. Edward felt a cold hard hole open inside, and he asked his landlord to describe the men. Edward recognized Rudolph at once, who else had such bad smallpox scars? The landlord really couldn't recall the other man at all because he had no distinguishing features, and this bothered Edward most of all. A man so unremarkable he couldn't be remembered made him very nervous.

Within a week, he had left his position at the school, sold the furniture and most of the books, said a very difficult good-bye to Ginger, and hitched a ride with Harry when he flew a courier job to Gibraltor. Edward stayed there just long enough to change his last name again ("Hullo, I'm Edward Thompson") before he crossed the border into Spain. He made his way to Madrid and stayed for five months until the night two men grabbed him and tried to force him into a car. It was fortunate they thought Edward too weak to fight, but fight he did. After a hard elbow to the ribs and a heel to the instep of the man holding him, he broke free, ducked the grasping hands of the other and ran for it.

He fled Madrid that same night and was in Portugal early the next day. But Nazi agents eventually caught up to him and one April evening in 1930, Edward was cornered by three men in a Lisbon alley. He panted with apprehension, backed up against an old brick wall, and waited to see who would come at him first. Two men flanked him, while the third stood directly in front. He took a rag and a small brown bottle from opposite coat pockets, unscrewed the bottle cap and poured some of it's contents onto the rag. After he recapped the bottle, he returned it to one pocket before he began to advance. "Time for a little nap, Shambalan."

Edward growled in defiance and made a feint to his right before bolting to his left. The man on that flank fell for the ruse and rushed forward to grab him. Edward stopped, pivoted and whirled from his attacker's grasp before he seized the Nazi's arm and shoved him into the man holding the choloroform soaked rag. They went down in a tangle of limbs and Edward leaped over them to attack the third man, who wasn't expecting this at all. Edward drove his right hand hard into a solar plexus and the other went down with a loud _oof!_

A few minutes later, Edward juddered to a halt a block from the apartment building he lived in. He peeked around the corner of another building and to his dismay saw a large black sedan parked across the street from his home. In case he escaped the other three, more Nazi agents were waiting for him. Edward spun on his heel and took the long way around to the back of the apartment building where he climbed up the fire escape. Fortunately, the evening air was warm and he'd left a window open a few inches. Edward pushed it up and squirmed inside, then reached under the bed to pull out his suitcase and throw it open.

He filled it with the few clothes he owned, and his favorite books, the ones from Casablanca, plus the ones he'd originally fled from Munich with. His last act before leaving was to lever up a loose floorboard and grab the small cache of money he had squirreled away from his job at a bookstore. As he stuffed it into an inside pocket of his coat. Edward heard footsteps coming up the hall outside his apartment and he stopped. Heart in his mouth, he stood still and listened. Three people stood on the other side of the door, and the knob rattled. Someone muttered in German, too low for Edward to hear the exact words. Then the footsteps moved away and Edward blew out the breath he had been holding in.

He moved quietly to the window and crawled out onto the fire escap, and pulled the window partially shut behind him. Edward climbed back down the fire escape and raced across the shadowed back yard, towards the Lisbon docks. A few hours later, he stood on the fantail of a cross-Channel ferry boat and watched the coast line of Portugal recede into the night. Two close escapes in the space of a year reminded him of the fragility of his freedom. This time he had to get further away if he wanted to remain at liberty.

Back in Lisbon, the unremarkable man pulled a silencer-equipped pistol from a inner coat pocket and unceremoniusly shot one of the agents between the eyes. He smiled blandly at the remaining men, who cowered in terror. "You were only taking orders from this incompetent fool," he indicated the dead man with a wave of his hand. "He was the one responsible for the failure of the mission, which is why he is the only one punished. I will let you live, but let this be a lesson to you. Now get out of my sight."

The survivors scrambled to do his bidding. Once they were out of earshot, he turned to his assistant. "The Shambalan has bared his fangs, Rudolph, and this will make his capture more difficult. I have orders not to hurt him, yet I don't have any desire to get bitten either!"

"Should I start making inquiries, Herr Doktor?"

"Nein, Rudolph, not tonight anymore. We shall get a good night's sleep and cast about for his trail tomorrow."


	50. Captured

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA, I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile.

**Author's note:** post series. Some movie events will happen, but differently

**Warning:** may contain movie spoilers. Has and will contain violence, death and sex.

**Beta:** Jedimasterwithapen

_50. Captured_ (Gefangen genommen)

_Dublin, Ireland, October 30, 1934_

Rudolph and the unremarkable man followed the bus to its stop in front of St. Padraic's Day School where they watched the Shambalan disembark and hurry through the school gates. But he didn't get too far inside before he was surrounded by a swarm of boys. The unremarkable man smiled fondly, the Shambalan who called himself Edward Murphy was very popular with his students . Taking him away from these children would be a pity, but Hitler's new government needed him more.

"That is enough, Rudolph," he said and the scarred man put the car into drive and took him back to their hotel room. They had finally caught up with the Shambalan a month ago and spent nearly every day following him and observing his habits. The unremarkable man walked into his bedroom and returned to the sitting room a moment later with a battered brown leather medical bag. He set it upon a desk, opened the top clasp, and took out two bottles of liquid, two syringes, and a small silver dart with four green feathers potruding from its back.

"The time for planning is done, Rudolph. Tomorrow, we will take the Shambalan. Will you call the airfield and reserve three seats on tomorrow evening's Zeppelin flight for Germany, bitte?"

"Jah wohl, Herr Doktor." Rudolph clicked his heels together, bowed, and picked the telephone off its stand, and took it into his own bedroom. His employer had been known as Dr. Schwinghammer back in Egypt, but that was really just one of his many aliases. He was technically an assassin, but this mission required him to capture a man alive and unharmed. It was a challenge, but he thrived upon challenges. And to be truthful, he had been getting bored. There are only so many ways to kill another human being.

But this was different and the unremarkable man applied his considerable intelligence to accomplishing his task. Such as the drugs he'd decided to use to subdue his quarry. A gentle tug on the feathers popped a plug off the back of the dart, revealing two tiny chambers within. He picked up one syringe, and unscrewed the cap off one of the bottles and upended it, then pushed the needle through the tiny hole in the top. Next, he pulled on the plunger and withdrew a small amount of the liquid before pulling the needle out. He set the bottle aside and pushed the plunger gently until liquid burbled out the needle's tip.

The unremarkable man smiled with satisfaction before he picked up the dart and expressed the liquid into one of the two chambers. He repeated the process with a fresh syringe and the other bottle before he reclosed the back of the dart. There was already a cap on the sharp end to prevent any leaking from that end. He had chosen these two drugs after much study and the dosages had to be exact. Next, he opened a drawer in the desk and brought out a flat, zippered case which he opened to reveal a small pistol, a silencer, and a single depression in the velvet lining. The dart fit into it perfectly, and he re-secured the case before replacing the drug bottles into the medical bag. The syringes he took into the bathroom to clean carefully before they too went back into the bag.

His last act was to pick up the case and place it upon the sofa next to their other "tools" assembled for the capture. The unremarkable man couldn't help but feel a little twinge of regret at the thought of wrapping up his mission. This hunt had been both diverting and amusing, but all good things had to come to an end.

_October 31st_

"Happy Halloween, Mr. Murphy!" the last of the students called out and waved before they raced off into the shadowy late afternoon. Edward echoed the good wishes and waved back to the excited boys. This would be his second Halloween in Dublin, and his desk would be covered with apples, oranges, nuts and chocolates tomorrow morning. Before leaving the classroom, he filled his briefcase with geometry worksheets to be corrected, then snapped it shut and slung the long strap over his head. Once outside, he stopped and took a deep breath of the cool air which smelled of dead leaves, and peat smoke. Edward had grown to love Dublin, or rather, Dublin had grown on him. Here in this wonderful city he truly felt safe from the Thule Society.

He strolled through the front courtyard of the school and out the gates just as the bus pulled up. He boarded and rode it till a few miles away from his apartment before he got out near his favorite bookshop. A translation of an old French text on alchemy had just come in, and he picked up the copy he had pre-ordered before he spent a pleasant hour browsing through the shelf of other new arrivals. He paid for the alchemy text and some other books he'd chosen and emerged into the darkening Dublin evening.

There wasn't much of a wind, so he decided to walk home. Already children were in their Halloween costumes and rushing up and down the street, trick or treating. Edward smiled at their innocence and enthusiasm. In a few hours, some would be groaning with tummy aches caused by eating too much candy, but _right now_ was a magical time for them. He shifted the bag from the bookshop to his right hand and looked at his watch. It was going on for six o'clock and his landlady would be serving supper in a few minutes. She'd told him she was making lamb stew, and from experience he knew it meant succulent chunks of lamb in thick gravy full of carrots, potatoes, onions, and parsnips. His stomach growled and he began to salivate. A bowl of lamb stew served with crusty bread would be just the thing before he settled down to correcting those papers.

Edward was so intent on getting home and having supper, he didn't notice the costumed children had all gone past and away down the street, nor did he notice the large black touring sedan parked at the curb. He barely registered the man in the clown mask looking at him from an open back window, or the pistol pointing at him, until it was too late to react.

The gun fired with a soft _phut_ and Edward gasped at the sharp pain that blossomed in his right leg. He looked down at the tiny silver dart with green feathers that was buried in his thigh just above the knee. He dropped the book bag, reached down and took a hold of the dart and pulled. His fingers slid right off, and Edward tried a second time, but his fingers merely scrabbled at the metal. His legs began to tremble and without warning, his knees gave way and he dropped hard to the sidewalk. The impact should have hurt, but his legs felt curiously numb. "Wha - what is happening?" he asked aloud.

Edward tried to get up, but his legs didn't seem to get the messages his brain was sending. He heard a car door open and footsteps approach him. "What - what did you do to me?" he rasped.

"Cease your struggles, Shambalan. I have shot you with a two-chambered dart of my own design. The first chamber has injected you with a paralyzing agent, and it's already taking effect."

Yet Edward kept struggling to get up, but his upper arms failed next. He supported himself on his elbows, which already trembled. With the last of his strength, Edward rolled over onto his left side so he could look up at the man. "Wh - why did you do this to me?"

His clown mask still in place, the man knelt down and gently stroked Edward's hair and the sensations filled him with revulsion. He had to get away from this man!

"Ngh!" he gritted his teeth and tried to push himself back up, but his fingers just twitched feebly. He panted from the exertion and tried to protest when the masked man slipped his hands underneath Edward's back and legs and began to lift him. Edward tried to shout "NO!", but his jaw and lips wouldn't move to form the words.

"Why, Shambalan?" asked the masked man, and up close the clown face looked distorted to Edward. "Because I felt it was the most humane way to capture you. Rudoph was all for just whacking you over the head with a club, but that is so violent. Ah, are your eyes having trouble focusing? The tranquilizing drug from the second chamber is taking effect now, and you will soon lose consciousness."

He stood up with Edward up in his arms and smiled fondly at him before he turned back towards the sedan. Now Edward could see another man, wearing a skull mask and holding the door open. The clown man bent down and stepped into the car before he set the paralyzed blond on the back seat. That door closed, and then he heard another one slam before an engine rumbled to life. The man in the clown mask threw a blanket over Edward as the car began to move down the street.

Edward couldn't move, nor could he speak. But he still was able to make a slight sound of protest deep in his throat. His kidnapper tucked the blanket around Edward's limbs and spoke in a soothing voice, "Shhh, Shambalan. We will take very good care of you, so go to sleep now. Everything will be all right."

The man removed his mask, but his face had already dissolved into an unremarkable blur before Edward's heavy eyelids fluttered closed and he slipped into a deep and dreamless sleep.


	51. Prisoner

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA, I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile

**Author's note:** post series. Some movie events may happen, but differently

**Warning:** May contain movie spoilers. Has contained,and will contain violence, death, and sex.

**Beta:** Jedimasterwithapen

_51. Prisoner_ (Gefangener)

The unremarkable man was having morning tea in the sitting room of his cabin when he heard faint noises emanating from the bedroom. "The Shambalan is awake, Rudolph. Would you bring him out here, bitte?"

Rudolph set down his own tea cup, "Jah Wohl, Herr Doktor."

He went to the bedroom door, which stood ajar a few inches, and entered. The man who called himself Dr. Schwinghammer heard some low muttering, followed by shuffling sounds, and presently Rudolph returned to the sitting room. With both hands, he gently guided the prisoner to a seat on the sofa opposite his employer

/

"Unnhh." Edward's first perception was of subtle movement,up and down and side to side.. At first, he was very groggy, but he quickly become more alert after his sluggish brain processed the information. Something was different. He kept his eyes closed and tried to figure it out. It didn't feel like the movement of a car, but more like Harry's airplane.

_I'm-flying-but._

Edward listened harder. He could hear propeller noise, but it was muted as if far away. He finally opened his golden eyes, looked at the white ceiling above him, and blinked a few times.

_Where am I?_

He pushed himself up on his elbows and looked around. He was in a small, rectangular bedroom. Next to the bed he lay in was a square wooden table with a brass lamp upon its surface. Nearer to the footboard was a matching chest of drawers with an attached mirror. A few feet away was a grouping of four armchairs arranged around an oval coffee table. A door at the far end of the room stood open and Edward could see one side of a white pedestal sink with a mirror above it.

There was a window in the wall to his right, and Edward was startled to see clouds float past. He pushed the bed covers back and had another surprise. Someone had taken his clothes off and dressed him in flannel pajamas, plus put a woolen sock on his right foot. The pajamas were too large and he was easily able to roll the right leg up past his knee. The dart was gone, replaced by a small white bandage. Edward felt cold all over especially in the pit of his stomach.

_I've been kidnapped!_

He rolled out of bed and cautiously placed his feet on the carpeted floor. It swayed ever so slightly, and Edward shivered at the cold prickle of fear he felt. He stared blankly out the window for a moment before he looked up. But instead of wings, Edward saw grey material, stretched tautly over a framework. _A Zeppelin_. And he shivered again. He remembered his first sight of a Zeppelin. That night in London after his mind and soul was flung through the Gate.

Edward looked away from the view outside, and squeezed his eyes shut. But the tears still came; they trickled hotly down his cheeks and dripped onto the carpet. That awful night, when he'd temporarily joined with his machine world alter, then fought for Al's life and lost his.

He didn't want to remember the pain, but memories had a way of sneaking back. He fought back the urge to cry, sniffled and wiped his face off with a pajama sleeve. A wooden coat rack with a dressing gown hanging from it stood near the window. He grabbed it and slipped his arms into the sleeves just as Rudolph entered.

))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

Rudoplh's touch made Edward feel queasy, but his knees trembled and he was glad of the support until he could ease down on to the sofa. He leaned back against the soft cushioned back and regarded the other man with a jaundiced eye.

Edward was especially displeased to see the bags he'd been carrying on the sofa next to the other man. Even with his mask off, he looked - _blank_ - in some odd way. Edward wondered if he had ever seen him before. Maybe he had, but even if prodded, he could never have remembered such an unremarkable face.

"I take it you slept well, Shambalan?" There was that word again and a small spark of anger arose in Edward's midsection. The other man poured tea from a blue pot into a delicate red teacup and pushed it, upon a matching saucer, over the polished wood surface of a low round table. "You must be hungry, please have some of this delicious tea. Would you like a scone? Do you prefer jam, or clotted cream?"

Edward tried to pierce him with a stony glare, but the man seemed impervious to "hairy eyeballs". He wanted to say he wasn't hungry - but he was very hungry - and thirsty too. So he settled for a simple factual statement, "You kidnapped me."

"Close, Shambalan,but not not quite; I _captured_ you."

Edward's voice grated in his ears, "My _name_ is Edward. And my home is _not_ Shambala, it is nothing like Shambala. It's not a utopia. We have wars, disease, death, and suffering, just like this world. And you took me against my will, I call that kidnapping."

Having said his piece, Edward bent forward and carefully used his left hand to pick up the teacup by its handle. He sat back and cradled it in his right. The cup was hot and the heat radiating into the fingers felt good on his cold flesh. The tea smelled good too, steam swirled off the surface and Edward's nose recognized the scent of a good breakfast blend. He brought the cup to his lips and blew on the surface before he took a sip. He swirled the brew in his mouth and let it quench the dryness before he swallowed. Warmth blossomed inside him,and Edward's head felt a little clearer.

Despite Edward's outburst, the wretched man continued to smile at him. Now he pushed over a deckle-edged china plate with two scones on it, one spread with a reddish jam, the other with a mound of white cream. Edward sipped more tea before he picked up the jam-ridden scone and bit into it. It tasted heavenly and he devoured it in three bites. He took his time with the second scone; he chewed thoroughly and sipped more tea between each bite. Now replete, he drained the cup, and set it back on its saucer before he sat back with a small sigh of satisfaction.

The kidnapper resumed speaking, "We will land in Berlin in an hour, and there you will be handed over to others for the final stage of your journey. You will not see Rudolph and I again for a new assignment is waiting for me at the Chancellory. I must say chasing you down was the most fun I've had in years. Especially because I was ordered to take you alive. Bringing you back unharmed was quite a challenge. You were wily and cunning, a most worthy opponent."

Edward frowned at the "handed over to others" statement. He stared hard at the man and wanted to ask him just what he meant by that. But he suddenly felt very sleepy. He blinked hard, but his eyelids kept trying to slide closed, and his head seemed heavy as lead. He toppled sideways on the sofa and found himself on eye level with the china plate that had held the scones.

"You drugged the scones," he accused and he heard the man laugh as if from a great distance.

"No, Shambalan. Not the scones, it was the clotted cream I drugged. It was rich enough to hide the taste better than the jam. Now rest a while then you will wake up refreshed at your destination. Goodbye, _Edward_."

_My destination?_ Edward wondered before swirling darkness rose up before his eyes and took him.


	52. The Angelika

THE WATERS OF LETHE

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA, I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile.

**Author's note:** post series semi drabbles. Some movie events may happen, but differently. This version is 52.1, a partial re-write because I was never completely happy with this chapter.

**Warnings:** possible movie spoilers. Has contained and will contain violence, bad language, death & mentions of sex.

**Beta:** none. Anyone want to take on the task of polishing this little "jewel"?

**52. The Angelika**

An ambulance was waiting at the airfield where the zeppelin landed just outside of Berlin, Germany. The unconscious Edward was brought out on a stretcher carried by two strong men who worked for the zeppelin company. The vehicle backed up as close as it could to the passenger debarkation area, and then two more men, dressed entirely in white clothing got out of its cab. One opened the large double doors on the back of the ambulance and the stretcher was placed inside, then the other man got in behind it and secured Edward. The man remaining outside shook the hands of the other two and thanked them before he slammed the rear doors shut, re-entered the ambulance cab and drove away.

/

Edward was running for his life through a blank yellow void which had no top or bottom, nor back nor front. No signposts for the human brain fix on. He couldn't exactly say just what he was running from, or for how long. But that is the way of nightmares; they only make sense to the subconscious.

He looked back over one shoulder, but the void stretched empty of threats. Maybe he'd outrun whatever unknown terror had pursued him. Edward turned his gaze back to the front a bit too late as he abruptly collided with something hard and unyielding. It knocked him backward about a foot and he landed with an ungraceful _thump_ on his ass.

"NO! Oh, no, no, no!" The breath left his lungs when he saw the Gate looming over him. It stretched black and merciless as high as he could see the only solid thing in the yellow void. It stood solidly on the ground and hung in midair at the same time, and Edward scooted backwards on his rear as fast as he could. He tried to stand up and run again, but his knees had turned to water and he couldn't regain his feet. The Gate was quiet as if observing this foolish human and waiting.

As if some sort of decision had been made, the doors creaked open ponderously, with a terrible grating sound, like the screams of thousands of people in the most awful pain. At first, Edward saw only blackness, darkness too stygian to be normal; and then the eyes appeared and the whispering began. The voices were too low pitched for him to catch any words, but just the sibilance filled him with the upmost horror.

The black arms came whipping out of that darkness that was blacker than black. Edward cried out in fear and he redoubled his efforts to scramble away, but they were too fast and he was too slow. One arm after another wrapped around him until he was covered from neck to foot with writhing black tentacles. The arms gripped Edward in a crushing hold, and they started to drag him inside the Gate; he screamed and screamed, even after he disappeared into the darkness.

The doors of the Gate slowly creaked closed until only a sliver of blackness was left and they paused briefly and the echoes of faint screams were heard. Then, the doors slammed to with a terrible finality, like the closing of a sarcophagus lid.

/

Edward woke up screaming, bolting straight upright while the sound tore at the walls of his throat. His wide open yellow eyes stared straight ahead, his mind still half locked into the nightmare. Gradually, he got a hold of himself once he realized he was awake, Edward swallowed hard, feeling the sore tightness in his throat.

He swallowed again and panted with exertion, his mouth open and taking in great gulps of air. Sweat rolled off his face and he shivered when a drop traced down his spine. Edward swallowed again and he felt a dry tickle at the back of his throat that demanded a drink of water. His arms were trembling and he flopped back down, but regretted that action instantly because it felt like laying his head on a block of ice.

Gradually, Edward's pulse and respiration slowed their mad galloping and calmer now; he could take stock of his new surroundings. It was clear he'd arrived at his mysterious _destination_ while still under the influence of the drug. It must have put him out for several hours because the light outside was weak, like a late fall afternoon.

He was in another, larger bedroom, a space that was clearly very old. The room was rectangular, the longer walls pierced by two windows, and a high ceiling was crisscrossed by huge oak beams darkened with age. The walls were painted in a pleasing warm yellow shade, like an explosion inside the sun. Directly opposite him was a large window, the sill stretching nearly to the floor, heavy curtains of a dark green damask framing a view of bare tree branches. It was storming outside and they whipped back and forth in a heavy wind while rain spattered against the glass every few seconds.

In the wall to Edward's immediate left was a large oak mantel under which a cheery fire crackled behind a black iron screen. The mantel was heavily carved with acorns and oak leaves, the wood shone as if recently polished. A half open wooden door was on the other side of the bedside table, and another door, closed, pierced the other short wall. The fire spat sparks when a gust of rainy wind came down the chimney and Edward shivered in response. This room was a very attractive chamber, but it was still a prison, this place was picked to store him until the Thule Society was ready to use him.

The furnishings correlated with the age of the room and appeared to be of the same vintage. A bedside table, a desk, dresser were all close to the bed, a full size one on tall legs, and an absolutely massive headboard. Next to the bed was a smaller, marble topped table which had a carafe of pink glass resting upon it. His throat tickled again, he was definately thirsty and he eyed the carafe, which appeared to be full. His mouth felt lined with cotton and he could just taste the delicious coldness. But he still hesitated. What if the water was also drugged?

He would just have to risk it and pushed back the bedcovers. Whoever had put him into bed had covered his body with at four thick wool blankets under a heavy quilt worked in yellow and green blocks. It looked quite cheery, but didn't quite fit his mood, which was far darker. Edward swiveled his hips and sat on the side of the bed, his legs dangling, almost, not quite touching the floor. He felt a brief flash of irritation at that knowledge, the last vestige of his old hair trigger sensitivity to comments about his height. After about a year in this world, Edward had undergone a growth spurt between the ages of seventeen and twenty-one; and he was now of roughly normal height.

Now he was out from under the blankets, Edward also felt definately chilled; he still wore the oversized pajamas his captor had dressed him in and drying sweat stuck them to his skin. His first impulse was to tear the sodden cotton off and just roll his naked body in the blankets, but the undermost one, plus the pillow were also damp and clammy. He reached over to pick up water glass turned upside down on top of the carafe, but his hand shook a little, and he guessed it was an after-effect of the drug.

Bile rose up in his throat when he recalled the calm ease by which his captor had kidnapped and drugged him. He set the glass down heavily on the marble before swallowing hastily and wiping his mouth with a pajama sleeve. Now, he really needed that drink of water and he reached out again to pick up the carafe. It was heavier than it looked and his whole arm shook with the effort of lifting it up, the water sloshed dangerously and most of what he tried to pour into the glass landed on the table top.

Edward set the carafe back down while making a sound of disgust deep in his throat; he gritted his teeth and reached out again, trying to stop the trembling. But it was all too much for him to take, a whimper broke from between his lips, and he threw himself back onto the bed. Edward rolled over and buried his face deep into his pillow before bursting into a storm of bitter tears. He wanted to be free, but despite all his efforts, seven years of running and hiding had only gotten him back where he'd started.

He was determined to escape this new prison, but just thinking about the effort required to scope out the lay of the land seemed like too much work. Edward was tired of always being on guard and looking over his shoulder, of being forced to flee just as he'd seemed to make a halfway comfortable life for himself. He hated always feeling so lonely and a sudden and unexpected wave of homesickness washed over and made him cry harder for a brief moment. He wanted to so much to return to Risembool, the village of his birth, and stand on Sentinel Hill, the high headland that overlooked the Rain River.

Edward could almost feel the warm wind blowing against his skin, and through his hair. If he ever found a way home to his world that would be the first thing he would do. Stand at the top of that hill and watch fat white clouds race through a blue summer sky, mimicking the sheep grazing in the fields far below...

His cries wore down to sobs eventually and he sniffed back a few tears, feeling drained, but also calmer. _You'll feel better after a good cry_ was an Amestrian aphorism. He used to think it was pretty useless advice, but strangely enough, he did feel better. Maybe that's why Winry cried so much, although she'd once said she cried because he wouldn't and Al couldn't.

_Al..._ His throat tightened up again as something vital clenched painfully in his chest. More than home, he missed his little brother so badly, and a few extra tears leaked from his eyes.

Yes, he felt calmer now, time to stop pitying himself. Clear thought was needed, but a wave of weariness pulled at his eyelids. He would rest his eyes for a while, and then pour himself a glass of water before looking around for any weak spots he could exploit to escape. He would just doze for a bit and rest his burning eyes...

Edward fell asleep without even realizing it.

/

It was dark outside when he woke up a second time. Edward blearily raised his head from the pillow, and tried to blink the room back into focus. They felt crusted with tears and sleep, and even his lips felt glued together; he must have drooled in his sleep again. Now he was sprawled on his back, someone had pulled the blankets and quilt up to his chin and neatly tucked his arms under the cocoon of warmth. The fire was crackling with fresh vigor as if it had been supplied with more wood. Now the fire was stirred up in a bigger blaze, he could feel the heat of it playing over his face.

Someone else was in the room with him. He heard footsteps, then one of the biggest men he'd ever seen moved into his field of view, pulling the window curtains across the rods and shutting out the cold German night. The newcomer was dressed in gleaming white clothes and was easily twice, almost three times as wide as Edward, but not from fat. This man looked quite fit, with shoulders so broad, he must be compelled to sidle through doorways. Long arms that bulged with muscles hung from those shoulders and one of his hands was about as wide as both of Edward's. He was as big as a wall and Edward felt sure the man could break him in half with contemptuous ease.

_So, he is my jailer. They picked a most intimidating one then._ Edward levered himself up on his elbows, narrowed his eyes and prepared to loathe the man.

Almost as if some sort of radar had alerted him, the big man turned abruptly, but gracefully. Edward blinked because he'd expected a blank face with mean little eyes under a unibrow. But the face presented was open and honest; his eyes were a warm, sparkling brown, although the look of guileless innocence was spoiled by a rather large nose. His lips curved upwards in a big smile when he noticed Edward glaring at him.

"Ah, Herr Elric! You're finally awake, and just in time for dinner too! You must be hungry by now, jah?" His voice was soft and friendly, but it made Edward bare his teeth in response. This was his jailer, he must hate him, hate him with every fiber of his being. Then his stomach growled, a long, plaintive gurgle of "feed me!"; causing the man to laugh, and Edward felt the distinct pop of a vein on his forehead.

"Come, Herr Elric, you smell like a pair of sweaty socks. I will give you a nice bath and then bring your supper."

He whipped the blankets off Edward with one large hand before he bent down and scooped up a very surprised blond like he weighed almost nothing. Edward scowled up into that friendly face; he could see the man had dark, perhaps black hair that was cropped so short his scalp could be seen.

"Put me down, I can walk, dammit!" Edward's protest came out in a fierce, throaty snarl. The smile on the man's face never wavered as he did so, but Edward's knees began to buckle the instant he put weight on his feet. He nearly landed in an ungraceful heap before he was picked up again.

"Oh, I am sorry for not introducing myself earlier. My name is Klaus, and I will be your nurse while you reside at the Angelika." Klaus kept up a running patter as he carried Edward into a room covered in gleaming white tiles banded by smaller black ones. He set Edward in a chair and turned around to fiddle with the drain plug of an enormous white claw-footed bathtub. The taps opened with faint squeaks and water gushed into the tub; steam began to rise from its depths.

"The Angelika?"

"Jah, this place is called the Angelika Convalescent and Nursing Home. It started as a convalescent hospital for wounded soldiers, but now we also give dignified housing to recovering patients, the elderly, and the terminally ill. Herr Doktor Stein is the director, and he - oh, Herr Elric, are you unwell?"

Edward's face must have paled several shades when he heard that name - _"Herr Doktor Stein"_ - he was the man supposed to pick up Edward after his capture at the Vienna train station so many years ago.

His musings were roughly interrupted by Klaus who began unbuttoning Edward's pajama top and he stripped off the damp, uncomfortable and slightly stiff cloth with practiced ease. Edward found himself picked up again and smoothly slipped into the hot water with hardly a ripple. Klaus handed Edward a washcloth and a square cake of yellow soap. "Can you wash yourself, Herr Elric? I must go and strip the bed and make it up fresh."

Edward nodded once and Klaus turned neatly on one heel, the rubber soles of his shoes squeaking on the tile floor. Edward was left staring speculatively in silence for a moment. His earlier determination to hate his nurse now made him feel slightly ashamed of being such a churl. Klaus called him 'Herr Elric', not 'Shambalan'; apparently he was not in on the plot to use him to open the Gate. That was good, but he would somehow have to convince Klaus to help him escape without sounding crazy. Edward was more than certain Eckart had made some plausible sounding cock and bull story, he would have to be patient and find out the details somehow.

He got busy with the cloth and soap and had to admit getting clean felt good as he hadn't bathed since the day he'd been kidnapped right off the streets of Dublin. The once almost too hot water was now pleasantly warm, he could just lean back and fall asleep in this deep tub and soak for hours. His eye lids were drooping when Klaus came back into the bathroom. "Ah! Very good Herr Elric! I have some shampoo here and I will wash your hair, jah?"

/

Edward was sitting up in bed, clean and dry; he had on a fresh pair of cotton pajamas. On his lap was a small tray which held a large, steaming hot bowl of beef broth, accompanied by a tall, glass of foamy milk. _This is my supper?_ He stared at the inoffensive items with disgust. He was HUNGRY and wanted something he could sink his teeth into and chew like his mind was chewing over what he'd learned from Klaus.

His "nurse" was insufferably chatty and he'd happily given every last scrap of information contained in his head. About the Angelika and its history, Dr. Stein, the number of staff, and the size of the grounds. But most important was the information there were no guards, no walls, or gates here. He could wander away at will if he liked, although Klaus did let slip - a bit too casually - "it is a long hike to Berlin".

Edward responded with a sheepish grin and he returned the innocent remark he might be interested in seeing a cabaret show at one of Berlin's more infamous nightclubs.

Klaus seemed to be content with that explanation - but there was something guarded in his innocuous expression - as if he almost, but not quite, believed Edward. For his part, Edward bent his head and applied himself to drinking his broth, as if he was the completely innocent lamb he pretended to be.

His spoon was scraping the bowl just as a soft knock sounded on the door. "Ah! It's is Herr Doktor Stein, he's come to see how you are settling in." Klaus bustled over to the far wall where he paused and then bowed slightly when the door popped open and Dr. Stein walked in.

"Guten dachs, Herr Doktor." Klaus greeted his employer with a warm, deferential tone of voice; he seemed to be truly fond of the man he worked for.

"Guten dachs, Klaus." replied in a soft, calm voice. This was a man who clearly didn't get excited over many things, like the arrival of a new patient.

He was a middle aged man of roughly average height with a trim build. His brown hair was cropped short, although the cut wasn't as short as Klaus's. Silver hairs spread across his temples and more were sprinkled throughout the neatly trimmed goatee on his chin. He wore a plain dark blue three piece suit of good quality wool. The only colors were a thin silver watch chin across his flat abdomen, and a defiantly red tie that bisected a cream colored dress shirt.

His eyes were gray, a soft sort of gray which gazed on Edward with something like concern when he came to the side of the bed. When Dr. Stein smiled abruptly, the creases around those eyes deepened and they glowed with a benevolent light. Edward decided Dr. Stein wasn't part of the Thule Society either; it might be possible to make him an ally of him too.

Edward couldn't help but smile back; perhaps he could turn this situation to his advantage. The older man must have misinterpreted Edward's expression as mere friendliness, for his words were without guile: "Gutens dachs, Herr Elric. I am Dr. Theophilus Stein, director of the Angelika Convalescent and Nursing Home. I understand you have been sickly for a long time, but I shall make you well again."


	53. Dedication

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA, I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile

**Author's note:** post series semi-drabbles and one shots.

**Warning:**there might be movie spoilers. This series has and will contain violence, death,and sex.

**Beta:**Jedimasterwithapen

_53. Dedication_ (Widmung)

The Angelika Convalescent and Nursing Home was founded in 1873 by Josephus Stein, the grandfather of the current director. He'd seen the devastation of the Franco-Prussian War and he wanted to create a quiet place for wounded soldiers to recover. He soon learned these soldiers had more than just physical wounds to deal with. Most also had what he called _war trauma_ complicating their recovery. Unlike many doctors of his time, he decided mental wounds had to be treated as well, and he was the first to offer his patients consultations with an _alienest_. (Now called a _psychiatrist_)

After he finished his medical studies at Munich University his eldest son, Adolphus joined him at the Angelika, which was named after Josephus's grandmother. She had been a "wise woman" and unofficial midwife in a small Bavarian village. She encouraged Josephus and financed his medical studies, so he admired her greatly. In her will, she left him enough money to pay his college loans and buy the land upon which the Angelika was built.

It was Adolphus who expanded the Angelika's mission to include terminally ill patients. He felt those who couldn't be helped deserved to die with dignity in a beautiful setting. He also established a small cemetery so those patients who wished to could also be buried on the grounds.

Like his father and grandfather, Theophilus was also a doctor dedicated to the well-being of his patients. He had joined the staff in the early 1900s and taken over after his father was killed when a stray shell hit his field hospital on the Western Front during the Great War.

/

Theophilus bent over the patient on a table in the examining room and gently probed his abdomen. Once stripped to his boxers, it was clear to Dr. Stein that Edward was far too thin. In the back of his mind, he was already formulating a diet for the younger man.

First would come meat broths. Protein rich and easy to digest, they would build up Herr Elric's strength without taxing his delicate system. Plus he would start him on a program of vitamin supplements. After two weeks, he would add fruits and vegetables, and Edward could have as much as he wished. Finally, once he knew Edward could handle it, meat.

Balanced meals would fill out that stick-thin body of his and bring color to his pale cheeks. Once Edward was physically well, he would get time with the staff psychiatrist to make him mentally fit too.

Dr. Stein finished his probing and straightened up, wincing when his back cricked. "You may put your pajamas back on, Herr Elric."

Edward sat up slowly and looked at him. If this man was his jailor, he was a very kind one. And the Angelika was a very strange sort of jail; no bars, nor shackles.

Edward needed to find out more about this place before he could consider thoughts of escape. Until then, he meekly settled into the wheelchair Klaus brought. He was rolled to the dining hall where his first full meal in two days was a bowl of steaming hot beef broth.

Edward eyed it with such suspicion, Klaus chuckled at him as if he already knew the reason for his hesitation, "The broth is not drugged, Herr Elric. It merely is what it is, so please drink it while it is hot."

Edward finally took a spoonful and he blew on it before taking a cautious sip. But the broth really was too hot and he promptly burned his tongue. Klaus chuckled at him again before pointing out the glass of orange juice. Although he was very hungry, Edward forced himself to eat and drink slowly so he wouldn't vomit his meal right back up. Eating slowly also gave him time to check out some of his fellow patients.

They were a mixed bag. He recognized a few former soldiers by their too-erect posture and very short haircuts. But some of them appeared to be civilians like himself, most of them elderly. He noticed one young woman who wept quietly while she ate her dinner. Edward looked at her a bit too long and when she noticed, she gave him a glare that would strip paint.

He blushed from his neck to his hairline and quickly looked away. After he drank the last of the broth, Klaus wheeled him away down the hall. Not to his room, but to a half moon shaped-room made almost entirely of windows. It was filled with plants in containers, with comfortable armchairs nestled between them. Despite the wind and rain outside, the room was very warm and Edward realized he could easily doze off here.

He decided to ask Klaus some questions to keep himself awake. "Klaus? What sort of people stay here?"

"Well, Herr Elric, the Angelika started out as a convalescent home for soldiers wounded in the Franco-Prussian War of 1873 and you will see a fair amount of veterans here. Many lost limbs, or their sight, or hearing. A few look healthy enough, but they have difficulties with trauma, you know, 'shell shock'. The Angelika has a psychiatrist on staff to help those unfortunates."

"I see some civilians like me here."

"Yes, that is true. We also care for people who are convalescing from surgery, injury, or a serious illness. Dr. Stein has become interested in the new field of geriatrics and the next largest patient group is the elderly. We also function as a hospice. Dr. Stein's father was the first in Germany to provide a quiet and dignified place for the terminally ill to die. That young lady you saw in the dining hall was recently diagnosed with leukemia, a cancer of the blood. Her family brought her here a few days before you arrived."

Edward was mortified. "And I kept staring at her; she must have thought I was very rude. But I wondered why she was so unhappy. I wanted to find out if I could do something to help her."

Klaus, who sat on a bench next to Edward's wheelchair, patted his hand and smiled at him. "It's obvious you have a kind heart, Herr Elric. Unfortunately, medical science can do nothing for her and her doctor has given her six months. She looks healthy now, so she insists on coming down from the fourth floor. But she will be bedridden in a few weeks, and she will eventually just slip away."

Edward hung his head and contemplated. In his world, he hadn't been able to save a little girl named Nina. In this world, nothing could be done to save her alter. He sat still in the wheelchair and watched the cold, grey landscape outside get darker and darker. When his head began to droop, Klaus took him back to his room and drew a bath for him. He washed his face and cleaned his teeth and got back into bed while Klaus banked the fire. The last sounds he remembered was Klaus wishing him good night and the soft click of the door closing.

Edward woke up sometime in the middle of the night. He put one hand behind his head and listened to the wind soughing around the walls of the Angelika. His room was on the third floor, one below the terminally ill patients. He wondered if the alter-Nina was right above him. Edward closed his eyes and tried to send her peaceful thoughts. Although he wasn't convinced telepathy really worked, he felt the gesture couldn't hurt. He rolled over to his left side, shivered, and pulled the covers up a bit more. His final conscious thought before falling back to sleep was of freedom.

_She can't escape her fate. But I can. And I will._

**Author's note:** Don't worry,action fans. Things will be happening in the next five chapters.


	54. I'm Not Nina

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA, I just like to play around in its world and torture Ed for awhile.  
**Author's note:** post series semi drabbles. 10.7.11: In the course of submitting this series to a couple of FMA fiction groups on Deviant Art, I've been tweaking each chapter. This one was tweaked more than others and could be classed as a partial re-write because I've added more detail, or fiddled with the text that was already there. New reviews are greatly appreciated.  
**Warning: **may contain CoS movie spoilers,violence,death,and strong language.  
**Beta:**Jedimasterwithapen

_54.1 I'm Not Nina_(Ich bin nicht Nina)

Edward stood in front of Greta's newly covered grave and cried. He probably couldn't explain to himself, or to Klaus, or even Dr. Stein why he shed tears for someone he'd barely known.

Yet he still cried.

He saw the young woman again the very next morning after Klaus brought him to the dining hall for breakfast. Beef broth again and Edward frowned at it. Some of his fellow patients were having steak and eggs and he looked wistfully at their plates.

Klaus assured him with a sympathetic smile, "It won't be long, Herr Elric. But Dr. Steins wants to be sure your system can handle it before you have solid food again."

Edward was very familiar with liquid diets from his sickly days and he had to start all over after an extended illness. Any attempt to eat solid food before his system was ready invariably resulted in him vomiting it right back up. Still, the steak and eggs smelled so good he was salivating like Pavlov's dog.

And then she came in.

She wasn't weeping this time, but her eyes were red-rimmed and surrounded by puffy skin. Edward caught her attention and ventured a soft "hallo". She responded with a glare of such intensity he flushed with embarrassment and looked down at his bowl of broth. Now he wished she hadn't sat so closely. He could _feel_her anger almost as a physical force, like a blow to his face. It made his stomach twist into knots and he lost his appetite.

Klaus was speaking to another patient in a wheelchair parked next to him, a wizened old bald man with an oddly yellowish face and milky blue eyes. "Herr Braun, this is Herr Elric, who I also look after," he spoke rather loudly and Edward got the sense the elderly man was hard of hearing.

Herr Braun gave Edward a gap-toothed smile, a _very_gap-toothed smile because he had hardly any teeth. He garbled something like "guten morgen', so Edward nodded and repeated the greeting back.

Klaus whispered _sotto voce_to Edward, "Herr Braun is 102 years old, he's nearly deaf, blinded by cataracts, and unable to walk. You can also see he is jaundiced. Yet for all that, he still refuses to shut himself up in his room. He very social and likes to meet people."

After Herr Braun returned to gumming his oatmeal, Edward went back to drinking his broth in careful sips, and tried to avoid slurping. He felt an odd sort of dichotomy about this situation. This pretty young lady to his left shut off all human contact, while this old man to his right sought it out at every opportunity. His appetite restored somewhat, he cleaned up the bowl and drank all his juice.

"Herr Elric? You remember the way to the solarium? I'm rather busy with Herr Braun, so you can take yourself there if you like."

Edward backed his wheelchair from the table, but it took him some fiddling to get himself aimed in the right direction. Controlling this thing was harder than it looked and he was sweating by the time he reached the hallway. He jumped when someone grabbed the handles and spoke into his left ear, "You really are hopeless, aren't you?"

He flushed again and twisted around to see who was pushing him down the hall. It was the same girl, and she still looked angry. He opened his mouth to speak but she just snapped, "Shut up!" in a tight voice. So he turned forward again and let her push him to the solarium.

After the rain and wind of yesterday, the sky was a cold looking pale blue with only a few high fluffy white clouds to mar it, as if Mother Nature was apologizing for her earlier outburst. Edward sat quietly on the wheelchair and she sat on a wooden bench next to him. They watched the clouds drift through the panes of glass and Edward's mind had begun to wander onto other trails of thought when she finally spoke.

"My name is Greta Gulvarsson, I'm twenty years old and from Berlin. I was engaged to be married to a nice young lawyer-in-training when I collapsed at my bridal shower a week ago. The doctors gave me test after test and they diagnosed me with leukemia. My fiancee broke the engagement and he informed me by letter because he didn't have the guts to visit me in the hosp... SHUT UP!" she snapped when Edward tried to speak. "I began to despise all men from that moment on, that is why I glared at you. It's nothing personal, so don't take it that way."

Edward's mind was in such a whirl, he didn't know WHAT to say. _I'm sorry?_ that was no help. _Your ex-fiancee is a jerk?_ too obvious. _You are so brave? _both useless and insulting. And she beat him to it, anyways.

"I know exactly what you want to say, but you know anything you said would be just a cliche, right? So don't bother. A fatal disease is really quite liberating, wouldn't you agree? Now I know I am going to die, I can say what is truly on my mind and I don't have to worry about hurting anyone's feelings."

He just held out his right hand to her and replied, "My name is Edward Elric. I was kidnapped and brought here against my will, but I intend to escape eventually."

All in all, Edward thought it had been a good introduction. But he was sadly mistaken if he thought the revelation was going to stun her to silence. Laughter wouldn't have been so bad, except she went further and openly jeered at him. Yet she took his metal hand without hesitation and gave it a healthy shake.

And then she laughed at him. "You are obviously insane, but I think I can tolerate you. Let's go outside after lunch and you can tell me more of your delusions."

In less than a week, Edward and Greta had a system down. They sat together at breakfast then she pushed his wheelchair to the solarium for several games of chess. She was obviously far better at it because she invaribly crushed him in the first and last games. The others tended to be closer and Edward suspected she was holding back to give him a fighting chance. After lunch, Klaus would bring their coats and they took the ancient elevator down to the first floor.

Going left out of the elevator took them to the south terrace of the Angelika. This was a pleasant area consisting of a brick patio lined with lounge chairs for patients to take the air in. At one end, three wide and shallow steps led to a sweeping lawn, green in summer, but now covered with colorful leaves.

The wheelchair hindered their progress because Greta didn't have the strength to get the thing down the steps. Edward offered to get out of the chair, he thought his unsteady legs could take him down to the lawn. But she would snap, "SHUT UP!" at him and they ended up staying on the patio, and it wasn't a bad place to sit. One wing of the building flanked it on the east to provide shelter from winter winds, and a pergola thick with bare, leaf less vines did the same on the other side.

After Dr. Stein finally decided the wheelchair was no longer needed, Greta took Edward's ungloved metal hand in hers and they walked together around the grounds. They went down the steps, across the lawn and down a trail through a stand of trees.

"DId you know? Dr. Stein's grandfather laid out this trail, he did a good job for being just a man, didn't he?"

Edward had to agree. The trail twisted and turned and each curve revealed something interesting, usually sculptures in various materials, benches, or the view of a small, quiet pond. Personally, he thought the sculptures were rather tame, the subject matter being classical stories of gods and goddesses strangely clothed in the nineteenth century manner. The pond wasn't very interesting, although it looked very pretty surrounded by mostly bare trees, and the benches were comfortable.

On the side of the pond furthest from the Angelika,they sat on a _tete-a-tete_, a curved bench with seats at right angles, and Greta asked, "Tell me where you come from, Edward. And don't lie this time. I know you don't come from Munich, because your accent isn't right."

_She's going to die anyways, and she'll take my secrets to her grave. So what could it hurt? _

Edward told her the truth. "I am from a parallel world, a world on the other side of the Gate that separates it from this one. My home is a tiny village called Risembool and I have a little brother named Alphonse who I dearly love. I miss him a lot and I want to go home to him."

Greta smiled at him with something like approval. "Thank you for telling me the truth, Edward. All my life, people have lied to me because they thought girls were too weak to handle reality. As a reward, you may kiss me now."

Edward should have been used to her abrupt mood changes by now, but this one threw him for a fresh loop. "Umm, ok."

He leaned closer to Greta,who obligingly closed her eyes and puckered her full, rep lips. But no sooner had his lips brushed hers when she pulled back while making an angry noise in her throat. Then she slapped him hard across the face before she jumped up and stalked off, back straight and face stiff with fury.

Edward sat there and held one hand against the stinging pain in his left cheek, too stunned to be angry with her.

_As long as I live, I will never understand women._

But the next morning, Greta came and sat next to him at breakfast. She talked to him as if yesterday's incident had never happened, yet her cheeks seemed a little flushed as if she was embarrassed. They went outside after lunch and walked hand in hand down the path, but instead of sitting on the tete-a-tete, they kept going and finally reached the end of the path. It came out on top of a gentle rise overlooking the main highway to Berlin. A bench was placed there for comfortable viewing, but Greta remained standing.

She stared out towards the city she used to live, laugh, walk, read, and dance in, it glimmered like a mirage, just thirty miles away. Edward didn't say anything because he knew she would just tell him to shut up, and he didn't know what to say anyways. She finally spoke up and said something which startled him.

"Edward, will you promise me something?" Almost immediately, she plunged on before he could reply,"I have this feeling that someone, somewhere, has something very bad planned for you. So on the day I am buried, promise you will do your best to escape."

A cold chill arrowed through Edward's insides, but he nodded at her because she was looking at him so keenly, almost as if she could read his past writ large on his face. Greta stood with her back straight and chin up for another few seconds before she suddenly sagged, her breath whooshing out from between suddenly paled lips.

"Edward, I'm cold. Please take me back to my room." He wound one arm around her shoulders, but she didn't protest his touch this time.

Greta was openly shivering, and leaning against him by the time they regained the patio. Worried, Edward supported her while they went inside to the ancient elevator and rode it up to the fourth floor.

The hospice floor was quite unlike the lower floors. Everything was hushed here, the nurses walked more quietly on carpeted floors, the scones, and even the paint on the walls was muted.

"My room is 425." _Almost directly above mine_, Edward thought.

The unnatural quiet bothered him as they passed closed doors. Silence reigned behind most, but he heard sobbing come from behind one, and low moans of "why me? why me?" from another. Greta's grip on his coat tightened when she heard those sounds and he could feel almost feel her heart pounding. Her teeth chattered gently as she shivered, although both became more pronounced when those sounds came within earshot.

He was just reaching out to turn the knob of door 425 when it opened from the inside. "Ach! Liebchen, there you are!"

The speaker was Katarina a maternal-looking woman,and Greta's nurse. Edward hadn't seen her until a week or so ago when she began to accompany Greta down to the common area for meals. She enfolded the shivering girl in her arms, "You are so cold, liebchen, come and have your nap." Edward made to follow across the threshold, but Katarina fixed him with a steely look, and stared down her nose at him, "Men are not allowed in a lady's room, Herr Elric."

"Oh, let him come in, please Katarina? He is the only other person who hasn't treated me like I'm made of glass." The nurse relented before her plea, but she made Edward wait by the door while she took Greta into the small bathroom and got her ready for bed. Once she was settled beneath a thick coating of blankets, Greta pointed at a bookcase along a wall opposite the bed and ordered, "Read to me, Edward."

He walked over and picked out a book at random. Then he returned to her bedside where Katarina had set a straight-backed wooden chair.

He sat down and leaned back, the wood gave with only the faintest squeak. It smelled of beeswax and was very uncomfortable. Helooked at the book's front cover, a German edition of a famous British novel: A Tale of Two Cities.

Edward opened the book, and flipped past the title page to the first chapter, and started to read aloud, "It was the best of times. It was the worst of times."

A new system began.

After their afternoon walk, Edward would take Greta back to her room on the fourth floor. Once she was settled in bed by Katarina, he would open A Tale of Two Citieswhere he'd left off the day before and read aloud till she fell asleep.

Edward was so depressed after that first day he went back to his room and crawled into bed with his coat and shoes still on. He shivered, even with blankets piled on, and wept for Greta and this helpless feeling in the face of her cancer. He refused his supper and only cajoling by both Klaus and Bruno convinced him to undress and put his pajamas on.

He feared Greta would never leave her bed again, but she was back on the third floor in time for breakfast the next morning, but she leaned heavily on Katarina's arm. The number of chess games dwindled to only a few, athough she was weaker, Greta's mind was still sharp and she beat him soundly in every game this time. It was inevitable that she gradually weakened a bit every day, until she was confined to a wheelchair and it was Edward's turn to push her along the path after lunch.

_Chess, walk, read._

He finished A Tale of Two Cities and began Moby Dick.

"Call me Ishmael."

The days flowed into weeks, and the weeks into three months until one morning in early February, Greta's chair was empty. Edward promptly lost his appetite. He pushed back his chair and fled up the stairs to the fourth floor. His knock on door 425 was answered by Katarina, and at first she didn't want to allow him-still in his pajamas and dressing gown -inside.

Then Greta called from the bed, "Is that Herr Elric? Please let him in, Katarina. I want him to read to me."

Edward was shocked by her appearance. Greta's face had become more pale over the last month, but on this morning her skin was whiter than paper. Her eyes were sunken into that face where they shone with a light like hot coals. Her lips were colorless and dried out, with deep, bleeding cracks. Occasionally the tip of a too-red tongue came out to try to moisten them.

Her breathing was labored, and wheezy and her voice cracked like a pump organ with a hole in its bellows. "Read to me, Edward. Don't say anything, just read."

He had finished reading Moby Dick yesterday, so he went to the bookcase and selected another volume, Gulliver's Travels. He opened it and flipped past pages to the first chapter in a mad rush, as if words alone could stop the leukemia. He started reading aloud, in a voice that sometimes wavered with emotion.

"My father had a small estate in Nottinghamshire: I was the third of five sons."

His stomach growled for breakfast, but Edward kept reading until Katarina put one hand on his shoulder.

"She's fallen asleep, Herr Elric. Go back to your floor and have lunch."

"I -I'm not hungry." the very thought of food, of eating food, revolted him.

"You are lying, Herr Elric. I can hear your stomach growling from the other side of the door. Go and eat, then take your walk. She will sleep all afternoon, and you may come back after supper and read to her some more."

He couldn't argue with her common sense approach. Greta may be dying, but he was alive and healthy, and he needed to take care of himself. Down in the dining room, Edward thought he would just pick at his food, and he was surprised to discover he was absolutely ravenous. He ate beef stew with hearty gusto before getting his coat and going outside to walk.

While he walked down the path, Greta's words echoed in his mind,_ I have this feeling someone, somewhere, has something bad planned for you._

For Greta, the end came quickly. Edward came upstairs after breakfast three days later and was shocked to find Dr. Stein in her room. He sat on the other side of her bed and listened to her heart with a stethoscope, and from the serious look on his kindly face, Edward just knew. But he sat down in the wooden chair anyways, picked up Gulliver's Travelsand started to read aloud.

"My master was yet wholly at a loss to understand what motives could incite this race of lawyers to perplex, disquiet, and weary themselves, and engage in a confederacy of injustice, merely for the sake of injuring their fellow-animals; neither could he comprehend what I meant in saying, they did it for hire."

Greta stirred when she heard his voice, she turned her head towards Edward and her eyes fluttered. But they stayed open for only a moment before closing again.

The noise of her breathing was appallingly loud and Dr. Stein said, "Fraulein Gulvarsson has contracted pneumonia, possibly a result of catching a chill while outside. But it's more likely she would have come down with it anyways. She will slip into a coma soon, and I doubt she can hear you even now Herr Ellric. But please, you have a pleasant voice and it is a great improvement on silence. So, keep reading anyways."

And Edward read. He paused only to return to his room to get dressed, eat lunch and walk for an hour. Then he was back to read about Gulliver's adventures in the land of the Houyhnhnms and Yahoos until supper time. He finished the book about eight o'clock that night, closed the cover for the last time and wondered if he should fetch another book and start again.

But he didn't want to get out of the chair and leave Greta's bedside. He set the book on a small oval table next to him, then reached forward and fished Greta's right hand out from under the covers. It was skeletal, the bones and bloodveins protruding through translucent skin, and cold as ice. He let it rest on top of his left hand, and put his automail hand on top.

Her hand lay perfectly still between his, and after a while, he hunched forward so he could rest his elbows on the bed. Sometime between ten o'clock and midnight, Edward fell asleep, crouched half on and half off the chair.

And he dreamed.

They were walking through the woods, but Edward thought they had left the path because he didn't recognize his surroundings. It was fall and colorful leaves fell thickly around them as they walked up a steep hill. Greta was in her nightgown and pale as death, but she was leading him, actually pulling him up the grade.

When they reached the top of the hill, the air all around was bathed in yellow light, while the leaves whirled around them in circles. And the Gate was there as if waiting. Its doors creaked open and the familiar black arms rushed out in a gust of cold air.

Greta turned to Edward and she was healthy again, her skin glowing and pink, her hair soft and shining. She let go of his hand and smiled at him as the black arms wound about her body like lovers.

"Greta! Don't go!" he cried.

"Don't be such a baby, Edward. Say goodbye now and be happy for me because my soul will go to see your world."

And he remembered what his father told him so long ago in London. The souls of those who died in the machine world crossed the gate to power reactions in the alchemic world. Leaves began swirling in the air about them, obscuring Greta and the Gate.

"Goodbye!" he managed to call out before she disappeared behind a curtain of red, gold and brown. When the leaves finally disappeared, the top of the hill was empty. Even the yellow light was gone, replaced by an ordinary vault of blue sky full of fluffy white clouds.

He woke up with a gasp. His hands were still clasped around Greta's and her fingers were twitching. And Edward somehow knew that although she was in a coma, Greta was saying goodbye for good.

He curled the fingers of his left hand and squeezed ever so slightly. "Goodbye, Greta, goodbye,I will miss you - friend." he whispered while a tear ran down one cheek.

Her chest rose three more times, her breath rasping loudly, and after the third exhale Edward held his breath as if in sympathy.

But Greta's chest never rose again.

She was dead.

He puffed out the breath he was holding, dropped his head back down to the bed and burst into tears.

Edward couldn't tell for how long it took before cried himself to sleep because he was back in his own bed when he woke up again. Bright sunlight slanted across his bed, and that told him it was late morning. He had probably missed breakfast, and his stomach rumbled with annoyed agreement.

But the door opened just then and Klaus came in, carrying a covered tray. "Good morning, sleepyhead. You probably don't feel like going to the dining room today, so I brought your breakfast."

Edward sat up and Klaus set the short-legged tray on his lap and removed the cover. Breakfast was eggs and ham, toast and orange juice. Even after last night's events, Edward ate with relish, it was important to fuel his body. After getting dressed, he went outside and walked to the end of the path where he studied Berlin and the road leading to it.

He had a promise to keep.

Greta was buried two days later in the cemetery on the Angelika's grounds. The only mourners were Dr. Stein, Katarina, Klaus and himself, so Edward's sorrow was mixed with anger. Not one member of her family had bothered to come to her wake. Her body was laid out yesterday in a parlor on the first floor and nearly every other resident and employee came to pay their respects. They shuffled by in a ragged line, in slippers, wheelchairs or metal contraptions called "walkers", accompanied by their nurses. Many had red-rimmed eyes and Edward was quite taken aback to see the elderly Herr Braun with hands over his face and crying openly, with tears rolling down between wrinkled fingers.

She was buried in what should have been her wedding gown, a frothy confection of lace and satin,the veil stark against her hair, and a bouquet of yellow hothouse lilies lay in her slack arms. Her stick-thin body swam in so much material, despite the excess being pinned back. A cabinet maker had made her coffin, a high polished box of black walnut accessorized with silver handles and hinges. A shiny brass plaque bolted to the lid gave her name and vital dates. Rumor was Dr. Stein had paid for it out of his own pocket, something that raised him high in Edward's esteem.

Edward expected a hearse to come and collect the body for burial in Berlin, like he'd seen for other residents who died here. But no one came and Katarina told him at the funeral Greta's final wish was to be buried in the pleasant little cemetery. To his further surprise, Katarina also revealed that Greta's hastily written will forbade her family to come to her wake or burial. As a final slap to the family that had rejected her, Greta also ordered the sale of all her clothes and jewelry, with the proceeds to go to the care of indigent patients at the Anelika.

The priest closed his book,tossed a handful of hard, mostly frozen earth into the grave, then he nodded at Edward. As the unofficial chief mourner, he also threw a handful of earth on the coffin and stepped back, alone with his thoughts while the other mourners came forward to pay their final respects. Klaus came over and gently put a hand on one shoulder, "Herr Elric, it is getting colder, will you come inside? The kitchen staff is putting on a small funeral supper."

Edward shook his head. "No, Klaus, I want to be alone for a while." His nurse merely nodded and turned away, eager to get out of the cold. The wind had picked up and snow flurried around as two men in black jackets hurried to fill in the grave. Edward shivered and buttoned his coat up to his chin. He shoved his gloved hands in his pockets and waited patiently until the two sextons finished their work.

They looked over at him, one raised a single eyebrow, as if in a question. Then he shrugged to his fellow when Edward ignored them. They finally walked away, shovels over their shoulders, and Edward could cry without interruption. Fat tears rolled down his cheeks and fell, to plop down and vanish into the snow at his feet.

_We are just humans. Tiny, insignificant humans, and we couldn't even save one little girl._It seemed a lifetime ago when an angry twelve year old boy shouted those words at his commanding officer.

A lifetime, and a world ago...

He couldn't even save her alter.

The snow began to fall harder when he at last turned away from the grave and retraced his steps to the south terrace. Edward looked at the lights coming from inside that illuminated a the interior. The kitchen staff was setting the table with bowls of steaming hot food. It was warm in there. He had a few friends among the other residents, and Klaus cared about him. Dr. Stein cared about him.

But he couldn't do it. He couldn't go inside, not now.

He had a promise to keep.

Edward spun hard on one heel and walked away from the Angelika, across the lawn and down the path. His strides were sure, although any sound of his feet was muffled by the snow which fell ever more thickly. It whirled about him, hiding him from view by the leaves had obscured Greta.

He skirted the now frozen pond, ignored the _tete-a-tete_. and kept walking until he came to the end of the path. He paused only briefly before he plunged through the snow down the rise until he came out onto the road. Edward stamped his feet to get the snow off his shoes, but some had gotten inside and his feet were already cold and wet.

He had a promise to keep.

He hunched into his coat and started to walk. At first he kept his hands thrust deep into the coat pockets, but he eventually brought them out and swung his arms after the exercise warmed him up.

He didn't know what he would do when he reached Berlin. Maybe he would find Greta's family first, and tell them off for not bothering even to visit her while she was still alive, and not paying their respects after she was dead. Then he would look up her faithless fiancee next and punch him in the face for being such a jerk. The thought of fisting the man's collar, cocking his arm back, curling the fingers and delivering a hard blow made him giddy with the adrenaline rush.

Edward badly wanted to hit somebody.

Rage and thoughts of revenge warmed him further, despite the thickening snow fall. Walking was becoming more and more difficult, and he was struggling to walk through an ankle deep blanket of white when the big, black car first passed him, then cut him off and forced him to stop.

A back door opened and Klaus got out with a blanket over one arm. "Herr Elric, where are you going?" He threw the blanket over Edward's shoulders. "You are frozen through and through, come now. Get in the car."

Edward first tossed him an evil glare before he growled menacingly, threw off the blanket and twisted out of Klaus's grip.

He had a promise to keep.

Klaus grabbed him and Edward twisted away again. Then Klaus wrapped his arms about him in a very strong grip and Edward went berserk. He screamed "Let go!" and some vivid curse words angrily and struggled to break free. Klaus lifted him off his feet and Edward tried to kick him, but Bruno came from somewhere, and grabbed his legs. He yelled and flailed all the way, but he was dragged into the car and held down.

The door slammed and the driver turned the car back towards the Angelika.

He had a promise to keep!

"Calm down, Herr Elric, calm down!" Klaus soothed, but Edward would not calm down, he continued to struggle. He muttered something to another man who muttered back. Then Klaus unbuttoned Edward's coat and shirt and pulled both down to reveal his left shoulder.

He said softly in a sad voice, "I'm sorry, Herr Elric."

Edward gasped loudly when felt a sharp pain, and he looked in time to see a hypodermic needle sink deep into his left shoulder. Sleep claimed him so swiftly he didn't have time to tell his nurse:

_I have a promise to keep!_

**A/N:** So sorry this got so long, but I had a lot to say here and didn't want to divide it into a lot of small chapters. The bulk of this was written while I was worrying about an upcoming mammogram last November. That is why some of it is such a downer. Credit to .com for information on the text of Gulliver's


	55. Perception

**THE WATERS OF LETHE**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA. I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile.

**Author's note:** post series. Some movie events will happen, but differently

**Warning:** language, violence, death and perhaps sex.

**Beta:** Jedimasterwithapen

_55. Perception_ (Vorstellung)

He woke up on the middle of the night, soaked with sweat and gasping for air in the wake of another nightmare. The details had largely slipped from his mind, but he had a vague memory of black hands reaching for him while a strange force held him down. What distressed Edward most after was his inability to move now he was awake and he began to thrash against his bonds.

The effort exhausted him after a fierce struggle, and he stopped and panted a few minutes later. Then he heard the floorboards creaking as footsteps approached his bed.

"Shhh, Herr Elric. It's alright, you just had another bad dream."

"Why can't I move?" Edward had expected to hear and see Klaus, but Dr. Stein came into his field of view instead. He raised his head and saw leather straps encircling his chest and legs. Plus more leather straps around his wrists and ankles. He wriggled experimentally, but the restraints held fast and he began to sweat some more.

"You tried to run away, Herr Elric. Then you fought Klaus and Bruno when they caught up with you. The straps are standard procedure after the tranquilizing of an unruly patient, just in case of a violent awakening from the drug."

Dr. Stein's voice was as calm as ever, but it contained a note of weariness, and Edward thought disappointment. "But in your defense, I understand you were very upset over Greta's death. Now you are awake, I shall release you."

Edward took a deep breath, and held it for a moment before exhaling after the straps were unfastened. He felt vaguely embarrassed by his behavior out on the road. But he really HAD wanted to get away, he'd felt suffocated by the sad and hopeless atmosphere of Greta's funeral.

He sat up in bed and shivered because the sweat on his skin made his pajamas feel cold and clammy. The window panes rattled as a hard wind crushed itself against them. It was as if the night itself was trying to smash them in.

"A late winter blizzard has blown in, Herr Elric. You are very lucky someone saw you walking on the highway, otherwise you wouldn't have been missed for a few hours. The snow is falling very thickly and you could have frozen to death out there. You had no chance to reach Berlin, you wouldn't even have made it to the nearest village."

"Dr. Stein," Edward asked in a soft voice because he felt a little ashamed,"Has Klaus gotten into trouble over this?"

The older man just chuckled, "Oh no, not at all, Herr Elric, but he is very worried about you. He sat up and watched you sleep until just a few hours ago. I found him nodding in the chair when I came to check on you and I ordered him to his own bed. I have a touch of insomnia every now and again, so staying awake is no trouble. Now you are awake, I'm going to draw a warm bath for you."

Almost an hour later, Edward was bathed, in a fresh set of pajamas and back in bed. He slowly drifted off to a more natural slumber. Dr. Stein had banked the fire and left the room after wishing him "pleasanter dreams". The blizzard still raging outside made a most effective barrier and he had no worries about Edward attempting another escape.

But just in case he was wrong, he decided Edward should begin sessions with the staff psychiatrist the next day.

/

Edward slept disgracefully late and he missed breakfast so lunch was his first meal of the day. Closely watched by Klaus, he walked to the dining hall and sat down in his usual chair. He resolutely kept his eyes forward and down towards the table, and tried not to look at the chair Greta used to occupy. Someone else, a complete stranger sat there now and Edward hoped it wasn't another hospice patient.

Lunch was placed before him, beef stew with carrots, potatoes, and onions in a thick broth. Edward picked up a spoon next to the bowl and stirred it without enthusiasm. It was hot and smelled delicious but he didn't have much of an appetite. So he continued stirring it, not noticing his hand was moving the spoon faster and harder. The stew was about to spill over the sides of the bowl when Klaus put an enormous hand over his.

Edward looked quizzically up at his nurse and Klaus answered him with a fake smile and a gentle rebuke, "Don't play with your food, Herr Elric."

Edward could tell something had changed between them because there was a sort of strain behind the bigger man's eyes. The trust between them was broken. It was his fault for attempting to escape and resisting recapture. Edward sighed heavily and dropped his eyes before he turned back to the stew.

The blizzard stopped soon after sunrise, but a cold front had blown in. A few flakes blew angrily about in a bone-chilling wind that still rattled the window panes as if trying to get in.. It was too frigid even for those patients who would lie well blanketed in the chairs on the south terrace to go outside.

There was no chance of Edward going out for a walk and once he finished eating, Klaus put one hand under his elbow and steered him to the stairway. They walked down two flights to the first floor without a word passing between the two.

Edward was confused, but didn't ask where they were going. He hesitated only once, when passing by the parlor where Greta's body had been laid out, But Klaus took him past that room and into another wing of the Angelika.

The nurse stopped in front of a wooden door with a pane of frosted glass in its middle and tapped with his knuckles. After he heard a crisp and no-nonsense voice call, "Come in", he turned the knob, opened the door and entered, pushing Edward in ahead of him.

A middle-aged woman with a lined face, and grey streaked brunette hair scraped back into a severe bun sat behind a large desk of dark wood. She was thin and angular and dressed in a blue woolen skirt suit which reinforced the impression of a stern school teacher.

"Hallo, Herr Elric," she extended one hand and gestured at a comfortable chair on the opposite side of the desk. "I am Dr. Simbach, the staff psychiatrist. Please have a seat and be at ease."

She nodded at Klaus and addressed him very formally. "Please come back in an hour, Herr Goldmann."

Klaus nodded and quietly murmured something deferential back before he bowed at the wasit and spun on his heel. He shut the door very gently, but the frosted glass pane still rattled slightly.

Edward sat gingerly on the edge of the chair. The seat was overstuffed and felt very comfortable indeed, but he didn't feel at ease. Like doctors, he'd had his fill of psychiatrists and psychologists who analyzed him while he still lived in London.

Between the time he'd awakened in a hospital in this world, and the day he and his father left for Munich, Edward was a very _angry_ boy. He snapped, snarled and generally lashed out at everyone who crossed his path. It was no wonder the doctors despaired over his mental state and recommended Hohenheim commit him to an institution.

After the thump of Klaus's footsteps died away, Dr. Simbach got up and walked from behind the desk. She pulled a plain wooden chair nearer to Edward, then urged him to sit back and relax. He had a strong feeling of deja vu as she sat down in her chair and leaned closer to him.

This session was starting out just like every therapy session he'd had before. Her next words confirmed his suspicions and made his golden eyes narrow with annoyance.

"Now, Herr Elric. Please tell me about your mother."


	56. Something Wicked

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own FMA, I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile

**Author's note:** post series. Some movie events will happen, but differently

**Warning:** bad language, violence, death, and maybe sex

**Beta:** Jedimasterwithapen

_56. Something Wicked_ (Etwas gemein)

_Munich, the same day_

Dietlinde Eckart was feeling quite happy that day. The Shambalan was finally captured and under control. Plus she'd just received positive reports on the training of the Thule army, as well as the acquisition of adequate weapons for Operation Longinus. Now she was awaiting to hear a progress report from the head of the rocket ship project.

She barked, "Come in!" in answer to the sound of rapping on her office door. It swung open silently to reveal a tall, thin blond man with blue eyes who carried an untidy briefcase under one arm.

"Ah! Herr Heidreich! Please, come in and make yourself comfortable. Would you like a cup of coffee?"

"Danke, Fraulein Eckart, some coffee would be very nice. The factory is rather chilly in the winte. All that stonework is so cold. I can't remember the last time I was truly warm."

Dietlinde served the rocketeer herself and close up she noted how pale and drawn his face was. His hair stuck up in all directions from a hand always running through it. His jaw was covered with a fine blond fur as if Alfons Heidreich hadn't shaved in at least a week. Those lovely blue eyes of his were bloodshot and dark bags drooped underneath. Grease and oil hid underneath his fingernails and ink was ground into the skin of his hands.

Heidreich looked as if he hadn't changed clothes for at least a week as well. They were wrinkled and also dirtied with grease and oil. The shirt cuffs were downright disgraceful, almost black with dirt and badly frayed.

"You haven't been eating properly, Herr Heidreich, that shirt just hangs on you."

The rocketeer ducked his head and a faint blush colored his sunken cheeks. He'd been so busy, so consumed by work the thought of regular meals, or even food at all was pushed completely out of his mind. Alfons clutched the china mug with both hands and enjoyed the warmth seeping out and thawing his frozen digits before he tipped it back and sipped. The coffee was hot, and rich with a full bodied flavor that felt so good sliding down his throat.

The chair was very comfortable and if he could just close his tired eyes for only a moment, it would be very easy for him to fall asleep.

Which he nearly did, but he came to in time to see Fraulein Eckart almost nose-to-nose with him.

"Are you all right, Herr Heidreich? I think after this job is done you should go someplace nice and warm, the south of France maybe, for a long rest." She waved off his protests. "You and your helpers shall be richly rewarded, and you have worked so hard you deserve every bit of it."

She gave Alfons time to finish his coffee before he picked up his briefcase and opened it. The bulging leather case could barely hold all the papers he'd jammed into it and a flurry of foolscap shot in every direction after he undid the clasp. The mortified rocketeer could only watch his research notes fly.

He caught Frauldein Eckart's eye once and flushed red from chest to hairline, but she just grinned and helped him re-capture the papers. He helplessly shuffled them around before he abruptly gave up, took a deep breath and made his report.

"All the engines you requested have been assembled and they have been mounted on ships one through five, but we've only tested ships one and two so far. The four one-seat rocket scout ships are completely tested and I've developed a special launching system for them. But it will take another week to assemble the two-seat scouts, and they must be fully tested as well. All in all, we will require another month to finish the job, a month and a half to complete it to my satisfaction."

"My my, Herr Heidreich," Dietlinde sat on the edge of desk, a sardonic smile curving her lips and Alfons flushed again. He wouldn't ever say it to her face, but she reminded him of a crocodile waiting patiently for its prey at the water hole to get _just_ a little closer before she struck. "You are certainly - thorough."

"I - I, must - I mean, it's - vital, Fraulein, um -" he stammered, this woman was his benefacteress, but she made him _very_ nervous. "All variants and load tolerances must be tested to make sure they are safe. My reputation rides upon those rockets because human lives depend upon them functioning perfectly."

"Very good, Herr Heiderich," she purred like a cat who had both cream, and the canary. "Is that all you have to report?"

At his nod, she continued. "Very well then, you shall have all the time you need. Meanwhile, you and your team have worked very hard today. Put your rockets to bed for now. I have arranged supper for all of you at a nice restaurant nearby. It's Friday night, so eat, drink and be merry for a few hours. Get plenty of rest this weekend, and you can go back to work on Monday, all right?"

"Al -all right, Fraulein, danke." Alfons began stuffing papers haphazardly back into his briefcase. His work was fascinating, but he rather liked the idea of a break.

_All work and no play makes Alfons a dull boy._

The papers still weren't in neatly, but he forced the clasp to shut, crammed the briefcase under his arm and stood up so quickly he felt dizzy. "Danke, Fraulein, danke. Good eve - evening!"

He hurried to the door and tried to push it open, rattling the knob until he remembered to turn the knob and_ pull_. The door crashed shut a bit hard when he pulled it shut after him and he nervously called out, "Sorry!"

As he hurried away down the corridor, Alfons imagined he heard Dietlinde Eckart's laughter echoing off the stone walls. He shivered with a combination of both cold and fear because he'd never heard such maniacal tones before.

_That woman is something wicked_, he thought. _I must be on my guard at all times from now on._

**Author's note #2:** I hope you all enjoyed the re-introduction of two familiar movie characters.


	57. Out of the Frying Pan

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA, I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile

**Author's note: **post series. Some movie events may happen, but differently

**Warning:** movie spoilers, also violence, death and maybe sex

**Beta:** Jedimasterwithapen

_57. Out Of The Frying Pan..._ (Aus der Bratpfanne heraus)

Later that evening, Dr. Simbach met up with Dr. Stein in the staff dining room.

"Hallo, Dr. Simbach. How was your first session with Herr Elric?"

"Very quiet, Dr. Stein, very quiet." Dr. Simbach replied in a resigned tone and picked at her food.

"How do you mean?"

"Herr Elric refused to speak, so we had ourselves a nice little staring contest for a half hour. I don't think he is over what happened with Fraulein Gulvarsson. He may need a little more time before he is ready to open up and really tell me what he feels."

"What course of action do you recommend, Dr. Simbach?"

"Herr Elric is one of those strong, silent types. He appears weak, but looks are deceiving. The harder we try to force him, the deeper he will dig in his heels and resist. I feel there a lot of mental trauma is in his past, but he's not going to tell me unless he wants to. The novelty of just staring will wear thin after a while. I just need to give him time."

_Two months later (early April)_

Edward hated the new order of things. He once had free rein to wander the grounds on his own, but no longer. Now Klaus donned his own coat and walked down the path behind Edward, ready to grab him should he attempt another escape. The extra vigilance annoyed him but there was nothing he could do.

One day during the first week of April, the younger man stood at the paths end. He hunched his shoulders in his coat against the early spring cold snap. The air was so frigid it hurt to breathe so Edward took short breaths.

He also exhaled in short bursts, steam coming from his nostrils in angry little puffs. They beat in time with his frustration.

Klaus's feet were getting cold and the nurse stamped in a vain attempt to get warmth flowing into his numb toes. "Come, Herr Elric. We must get back in time for your session with Dr. Simbach."

Edward responded with a low-pitched growl, because he despised the psychiatrist. He took almost three weeks to speak to her, about anything. For a while he took to refusing to look at her as well. Nearly a month of coaxing was needed to convince him to lie on a leather couch and relax. But he turned obediently and retraced his steps back to the Angelika, back to his prison without bars.

Edward wouldn't ever admit it, but he was freezing. Yet his innards roiled with bitterness.

He stopped so quickly after reaching the lawn, Klaus ran into him and nearly knocked him down. Edward staggered and flailed his arms before his nurse pulled him upright.

Both Dr. Stein and Dr. Simbach, coats on against the chill, waited on the south terrace. They were flanked by two men in black uniforms. Around their upper arms were red bands marked with black swastikas on white circles.

Standing at attention behind them were four soldiers in slate blue uniforms.

_Nazis_.

"What in the..." Klaus trailed off, confusion mixed with pinches of fear and anger in his voice,"Those men with Dr. Stein are Gestapo, the German secret police. I've read about them in the paper."

He put a hand on Edward's back and urged him forwards. "This is serious, Herr Elric. These two could make a lot of trouble for Dr. Stein, so please behave yourself."

Edward behaved as Klaus had asked, but his nostrils flared and his golden eyes narrowed to slits. His body was stiff with hostility by the time they reached the bottom of the steps and he raked both of the SS officers with his most evil glare.

One of them just looked at Edward with a poker face, but the other openly sneered at him.

"Edward Elric," he announced in a portentous tone of voice. "The time for you to serve the Fatherland with your unique gift has arrived. Pack your things because you are coming with us now."

Edward hissed between his teeth and he turned his glare on Dr. Stein, whose normally mild expression had turned quite perturbed.

"Please, Colonel Schwahn, Herr Elric is not well enough to leave yet. He and Dr. Simbach have made progress this last month, and I beg of you to give her more time to complete his treatment."

Colonel Schwahn turned such an icy look in the good doctor's direction, Edward was surprised he wasn't frozen solid on the spot. "I'll let you in on a little secret, Dr. Stein. Your only purpose was to keep Herr Elric until we were ready to use him, and that time has finally come."

He put one hand up when Dr. Stein opened his mouth and the doctor immediately snapped it shut again. "Not another word, Stein, or we can arrange some _changes_ at the Angelika. Do you understand?"

Dr. Stein's face worked as if he was fighting an internal struggle, then it and his whole body seemed to sag in defeat. Edward's heart sank with it because the man suddenly looked a thousand years old.

"Very well Colonel Schwahn,the other patients depend on me and I shall do as you ask. Klaus," he said in a quiet voice. "Please take Herr Elric up to his room and help him pack. I shall get the paperwork ready."

Trailed by a concerned Dr. Simbach, Dr. Stein turned and walked slowly to the terrace door.

But he stopped when Edward said, "No."

"Please, Herr Elric," Stein replied with a slight whine in his voice. "There is nothing to be done, so behave now."

"NO!" Edward shouted, and dug in his heels when Klaus tried to push him forward. "NO! NO! **NO!**"

Colonel Schwahn gestured to the soldiers. "Take him!"

Edward spun quickly, dodged around Klaus who still pleaded with him to calm down, and bolted back towards the trees. Pounding footsteps told him the soldiers were in pursuit and he put on more speed to leave them in his wake.

/

The other residents of the Angelika gathered at the windows looking out over the terrace, some of the nurses, including Bruno, came out to stand next to Klaus. The big man looked to be on the verge of tears, and his friend tried to console him.

An angry shout made both of them look up, two of the soldiers were coming back and each was limping. One held a handkerchief over his face and tried to stem the flow of a bloody nose.

"He is a _devil_!" the other soldier, bleeding from the mouth proclaimed. Another shout sounded behind them and the other two soldiers came into view, trying to hang on to a fiercely struggling Edward.

First they tried to push him, but his dug in his heels.

He went limp when they tried to drag him, and then spun out of their grasp. They would seize him again and lift him off his feet, but he kicked with gusto, and they grimaced when each heel hit home on their shins.

They would be black and blue tomorrow.

As they got closer to the terrace, Klaus could hear what Edward was shouting and his face reddened. Almost every word was an obscenity and he was surprised the younger man knew so many. The SS colonel looked on with a sour expression until the strange parade reached the bottom of the steps, and then he walked down and silenced Edward with one hard punch to his stomach.

He uttered a loud "woof!" as the air rushed out, then hung limp between his captors and took shallow breaths.

Colonel Schwahn grabbed Edward's hair and forced his head back. Edward couldn't speak, but he was able to glare. "Obey me, Herr Elric. You will come with us and do as you are told."

Edward pursed his lips and spat in the colonel's face, and this action earned him a hard slap.

"You there!" the colonel jabbed a finger at Klaus. "Herr Elric needs a little _subduing_, go tell Dr. Stein to prepare a sedative. It's a long journey back to Munich and I'd rather not be subjected to Herr Elric's rude comments!"

Edward had his wind back and he resisted every step of the way. Neither Klaus nor Bruno wanted to do it, but they had many years of experience in dealing with unruly patients. After the two nurses convinced the soldiers to let go, they carried the struggling blond inside to a first floor examining room. It took the combined strength of both to hold Edward down on the table while Dr. Stein filled a syringe with a sedating drug.

"Please calm down, Herr Elric," he whispered while unbuttoning Edward's coat and pulling out his left arm. "My hands are tied and I cannot help you anymore."

Their eyes met and those kindly grey orbs had such a note of pleading in them.

Edward stilled.

The nurses let go of him. Edward unbuttoned the cuff of his shirt and rolled the left sleeve up before he fixed Dr. Stein with an unblinking golden stare.

"Danke, Edward. Danke." Dr. Stein tied a length of rubber tubing around Edward's arm and swabbed alcohol on the inside of the elbow. He slid the needle in gently but Edward shuddered, then he hissed between his teeth as the drug was administered.

"I'm sorry." was the last thing he heard before darkness took him away.

_A few hours later..._

Dietlinde Eckart was waiting at the front door when a black sedan, followed by an ambulance rolled past the gate of the Thule Society headquarters. The back doors popped open and two of the soldiers brought out a blanket covered figure on a stretcher.

She sucked in her breath when she saw Edward's face, he looked like he hadn't aged a day since their last meeting over seven years ago.

Heels clicked in front of her and she smiled when Colonel Schwahn bowed stiffly from the waist. "I take it Edward wasn't very cooperative?"

"No, Madame Eckart," the corner of Schwahn's mouth tugged upwards in the briefest of smiles and then his face was it's usual cold mask. "Dr. Stein was obliged to subdue him with a sedative."

"Very well," Dietlinde nodded. "His cell has been prepared, Hess will show you the way there."

/

She went to check on him after he was settled in. Edward looked like an angel, asleep with his long blond hair spread out over the pillow. His head was turned to his left, the hand on that side lay next to the pillow,the fingers curled slightly.

He stirred once, those fingers twitched, and he moaned quietly as if he knew she was watching. Dietlinde sucked in a breath, and felt a brief stab of fear. Suddenly, she was a little bit afraid of the Shambalan because the extent of his powers was unknown.

He would sleep for another hour or so, and she directed the guards to feed him something hot and nourishing after he woke up. Now Dr. Stein's treatment had built his strength up, it was important to keep the Shambalan healthy.

She left the cell and walked straight backed towards the main hall where the Great Array was. Dietlinde looked calm outside, but her insides were thrumming with excitement.

Soon, she would behold the glorious world of Shambala, and she could hardly wait.


	58. Enter Dr Mengele

**The waters of lethe**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA, I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile.

**Author's note:** post series and somewhat AU. Some movie events will happen, but differently.

**Warning:** movie spoilers. Also violence, death and maybe sex. Some bad language this chapter.

**Beta:** Jedimasterwithapen

_58. Enter Dr. Mengele_ (Dr. Mengele anmelden)

Edward sat morosely at the table in the cell and ate his lunch, a bowl of oxtail soup, and sourbraten served with fried potatoes. He stabbed up a piece of the meat (because he wasn't allowed a knife, the meat was pre-cut), added a potato and bore it to his mouth. His mood dark, he chewed slowly and swallowed. The food was well prepared, but it sat like a hot lump in Edward's stomach.

Yet Edward continued to eat in a mechanical fashion, he had to keep his strength up in case a chance to escape presented itself. He'd woken up two days ago and spent most of his time pacing the worn stone floor, searching for a way out. But he was defeated each time.

The windows were too high for him to reach, except by climbing up the walls, and he'd tried that more than once. But the walls were very smooth and he was forced to climb up in a zig-zag fashion before going left or right. Once he'd reached his objective, he'd been disgusted to discover both windows were barred as well as covered with thick glass.

Next, Edward tapped on all the walls with his prosthetic hand in hopes of locating a trigger for any secret passageways behind them. But the walls remained stubbornly solid. This left the door, but he couldn't get out that way. Made of thick planks of wood, it had a small barred window, a sturdy lock and was guarded at all times.

Edward discovered that the first and only time he'd gotten out of the room. When his first meal was brought, he swerved around the soldier holding the tray, dodged a second who tried to grab him and bolted for freedom.

Only to be brought up short by two more soldiers who seized him by the arms and dragged him, kicking and flailing back into the room.

Eckart visited him a few hours later and he'd glared at her with such ferocity she'd taken a step back until two soldiers grabbed his arms and held him in check. Not since the night he fought Envy in the buried city had Edward wanted to _kill_ another living creature quite so badly.

When she said, "Hallo, Shambalan," a sound like a low-pitched growl forced itself up his throat and between his lips. Every word she spoke to him was answered by a sentence peppered with so many obscenities Eckart's ears were red with embarrassment.

Yes, he was her prisoner, but no he would not open a portal, no he would not stop swearing, no he would not cooperate. The only task he would willingly perform was throttling her with his bare hands.

She retreated soon after he screamed "Go to hell, you _bitch_!" and Karl Haushofer found her weeping tears of pure frustration in her office.

"Fraulein, what is the matter? Maybe I can help."

"The Shambalan refuses to cooperate, Karl. I tried, oh I tried to talk sense into him, but he just answered me with the filthiest words I've ever heard. He's all alone now so there aren't any one he cares for to threaten... I don't know what else to do!"

"Hmmm...," Haushofer rubbed his chin in the manner of one thinking deeply. "You could call that Dr. Mengele, the man Himmler recommended. He's made the study of psychotropic drugs his life's work. Perhaps one of those drugs would make the Shambalan more - amenable."

"Danke, Haushofer," a smile flitted across Dietlinde's face as Haushofer gave her a folded handkerchief to dab the tears from her face. She shuffled through the deep pile of papers on her desk, extracted one and looked at it, then went digging through the pile again in search of the telephone. "I shall do that right now."

The sound of many pairs of feet approaching made Edward stop his pacing. He looked curiously at the door. Lunch was past, and supper wouldn't be for hours yet. He frowned when he heard keys rattling, then the door was unlocked and swung open. Two soldiers came in, followed by Eckart and Hess.

Edward ground his teeth with anger.

Then he noticed the man standing in the doorway. He was young and handsome, his dark hair cropped short, and he was dressed in a gray suit. . If not for the dark red tie, and black shoes, he would have given a complete impression of _grayness_.

The man smiled slightly and Edward's blood ran cold. The smile was false, and it didn't reach those flat eyes.

His entire demeanor gave Edward the impression of a snake. The venomous kind, Edward's mind internally corrected when the other man walked into the room and set a black leather medical bag upon the table.

"Hallo, Herr Elric", he spoke with even, clipped tones and the temperature of the room seemed to drop several degrees. "My name is Dr. Mengele and I'm going to give you something to help you calm down."

Mengele opened the bag and took out the paraphanalia of injections: a hypodermic needle, a bottle of alcohol, some cotton, and a small bottle filled with a green liquid. He unscrewed a cap on the second bottle, held it upside down and began to fill the syringe with it. "Sit down, and roll up your sleeve, _bitte_. This won't hurt a bit."


	59. The Puppetmaster

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own FMA, I just like to play around in it's world and toy with Ed's emotions for awhile

**Author's note:** post series and slightly AU. Some movie events may happen, but differently

**Warnings:** movie spoilers. Also violence, death and maybe sex

**Beta:** Jedimasterwithapen

_59. The Puppetmaster_ (Das Puppetmaster)

Eckart could have told Mengele even this simple request would not be met.

It took the combined strength of four Thule soldiers (one at each arm, and two shoving from behind) to dig the Shambalan out of the corner he'd wedged himself into. After three minutes of fierce struggle, all parties involved were sweaty and out of sorts. The soldiers were too well trained to yell out in pain so they just grunted when Edward's heels landed solid blows on their shins.

But a curse was ripped from the lips of one man when his hand got too close to Edward's mouth and his thumb was bitten to the bone. By now it was quite clear to Mengele the prisoner would not be persuaded to sit in the chair. He changed his plans accordingly.

"Lay him face down on the bed!" he ordered and then looked guiltily over at Eckart, but she just reinforced the order with a short nod. "Hold him as still as you can."

/

Edward had no illusions about what was going to happen. He had only a faint hope of breaking free and escaping out the door, but he felt compelled to try anyways.

But it was no good. He couldn't yank his arms from the iron grip of the soldiers. With nothing to lose, he determined to make them suffer and unleashed vicious kicks on whatever shins he could reach. His sharp teeth clamped down on an errant thumb and drew blood but that was the extent of his "victories".

He was flung down upon the bed and held there. He tried to kick but he could barely move because the soldiers were bearing down with their entire weight. A hand shoved his face tightly against the bed covers and he bucked desperately because it was difficult to breathe. Someone was pulling up his shirt to expose his ribs, and he shivered when one spot between two of them was rubbed with something cold and wet.

Edward's scream of pain was muffled in a pillow when he felt the needle bite deep into his side. He was held down for a few minutes longer before they abruptly released him.

Edward raised his head and gulped in large breaths of the chilly air for a few moments.

Not long after that, he began to feel _strange_.

His body was slowly going numb, and it felt heavy as lead. Edward rolled on to his back and glared at nothing in particular. His vision was narrowing, the edges were slowly growing black.

Edward passed out.

/

Deep within the subconscious, the Edward-as-Ego suddenly lurched up and shivered. The pool of water he floated in had become very cold. He sat up and noticed ice forming along the shore.

_This can't be right, something is wrong_ . He thought.

He stood up and waded to the pier, climbed up and went to find the Edward-as-Id.

In the pine forest around the pool, the Edward-as-Id also noticed the change. The air was colder and he saw the trees were dropping their needles in a fragrant rain.

_Something is very wrong_.

Now he saw a light flitting between the bare branches, it came floating towards him, pulsing gently from blue to red. The Edward-as-Id looked at it in dismay as it nestled on his palms.

This was Edward-as-Soul, and it didn't look very happy. His breath puffed out in clouds and he started when something white began floating to the ground all about.

_It looks like - snow??_

He'd rarely seen snow in the subconscious before, and it happened only three times before. Once when this host's mother died, once when the human transmutation failed, and once when the host sacrificed himself. But the snow never had fallen so thickly before or so fast. He turned towards the pool and went to find the Edward-as-Ego.

They must protect the Edward-as-Soul.

/

Eckart and Hess watched Edward's eyes close and his breathing even out. Mengele stood by the bed with his arms folded and a slight frown on his handsome face.

He looked over at Eckart and smiled his not-quite-human smile again. "If you want the Shambalan to answer to you, your voice must be the first thing he hears. Let us test the puppet, give him an order."

Eckart swallowed hard before she fixed a stern look on her face.

"Sit up!" she snapped.

His eyes still closed, Edward did so.

"Wake up!"

His eyes shot open and Eckart gasped. His beautiful golden eyes stared glassily and they looked wider than normal because the pupils had shrunk to tiny pinpricks. Mengele nodded in approval.

"The drug has taken effect from the first dose, but several subsequent doses will be required to put him completely under your control. I have perfected this drug into pill form as well. Then it will be easier to administer than daily injections."

Eckart looked over at the doctor with admiration. "And just what do you call this wonder drug of yours?"

"Puppetmaster, Fraulein Eckart. I call it The Puppetmaster."


	60. The Dark Spiral

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA, I just like to play around in it's world and toture Ed for awhile

**Author's note:** post series and slightly AU. Some movie events may happen, but differently

**Warning:** movie spoilers, language, violence, and death. Maybe sex too.

**Beta: **Jedimasterwithapen

_60.The Dark Spiral_ (Die dunkle Spirale)

The Id and the Ego met where the pier touched land at the edge of the pond. Edward-as-Id looked tearfully between Edward-as-Ego and Edward-as-Soul.

The latter still pulsed, but it was more blue than red and the light was dimmer. "What is wrong with the soul? We must protect it from all danger, but I don't know what to do!"

Edward-as-Ego bent down and squeezed the Id's shoulders in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. "Come with me," he said. "I know how to protect it!"

The Ego spun on his heel and retraced his steps back to the pond. He hissed between his teeth when his feet broke through the thin crust of ice on the water and splashed into the chilly liquid. Sloshing sounds behind him told him the Id was following.

"Hurry!" he yelled over his shoulder. "We don't have much time!"

The water was no more than knee deep until they got to the middle of the pond, then the bottom dropped down and they had to tread water.

"Take three deep breaths, and let yourself sink. Don't be afraid of what happens."

The Id _was_ afraid, but he trusted the Ego and did as he asked. Together they sunk to the bottom of the pond while crackling noises above their heads signaled the freezing of the water. Burdened by the extra weight of the Soul, the Id hit bottom first, and he swiveled to make sure he landed on his back, with the Soul on his chest.

The Ego floated right above him for a moment, and then eased on top of him. They lay together like lovers, with the Soul sandwiched between.

"This is the best way to protect the Soul," said the Ego, air bubbling out of his mouth. "By shielding it with our own bodies, the ice cannot harm it."

"How long will we stay like this?"

"As long as it takes."

/

Edward lay on his side, his back resolutely presented towards the door. Anyone looking in would be fooled into believing his even breathing meant he was sleeping.

But Edward could not sleep. He felt _violated_ in some fashion and simmered with anger towards his captors. While under the drug's influence, he'd had no will of his own, his body responded as if divorced from his consciousness and the memory filled him with horror.

_Eckart could order me to kill someone and I would obey without thinking._ _This is how they will get me to open a Portal to my world. _

A convulsive shudder ran through his body just thinking of the implications.

The sound of footsteps echoed through the hall outside his cell as people passed by almost constantly. Edward paid them no mind until what sounded like a large number of people approached and halted right outside the door.

A key scraped in the lock and they entered. Mengele ordered.

"Prepare the prisoner for his injection!"

Edward growled low in his throat and he whirled the instant a hand touched him, smashing his left fist into a startled face. A crunching noise heralded the sound of a nose breaking, and blood spurted everywhere.

He fought like a tiger, cursing and kicking but in vain. Edward was flipped over onto his stomach and held down while the needle did its work.

/

The second time, he took longer to come out of the darkness.

A bright light dazzled his eyes when he did. Edward gasped, utterly fascinated, he couldn't look away. Then a woman's voice came thundering from it.

_"Can you hear me?"_

_"Y-yes, yes I can."_

_"Do you know who I am?"_

_"N - no."_

_"I am your Master."_

_"You - you are my Master?"_

_"YES! And you will obey me without question! Do you understand?"_

_"Yes, yes I do."_

_"Very well then, remember this. I am your Master. You will obey me without question."_

_"You are my Master. I will obey you without question."_

_"Very good, Puppet. Rest now, and wait for me to call upon you."_

_/_

Edward's face and pillow were damp after he woke up. He licked his lips and they tasted salty.

_Why am I crying?_

He couldn't remember why.

Deep in Edward's subconscious, the Id, Ego, and Soul were compressed into a small space because solid ice was all around them. Neither of them could recall such an intense cold. The Id could see just by looking into the Ego's eyes this was serious, so he just closed his own and prayed it would end soon.


	61. The Puppet Alchemist

**THE WATERS OF LETHE**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA, I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile.

**Author's note:** post series and slightly AU. Some movie events will happen, but differently

**Warning:** movie spoilers, also violence, death and maybe sex.

**Beta:** Jedimasterwithapen

_61. The Puppet Alchemist_ (Der Marionette Alchemist)

It took Dr. Mengele just over two weeks to break Edward completely. But break him he did.

Freshly bathed, his hair washed and dressed in clean clothing, Edward sat quietly on a high-backed wooden chair. His gloved hands were folded neatly in his lap and his eyes were closed. Only the slight rise and fall of his chest showed he was alive, because he was so still.

The two men assigned to guard Edward had taken great pains with his appearance. The ends of his hair were trimmed, and set in a high ponytail tied with a black velvet ribbon. The clothes were ironed and the nap of his long brown coat was brushed free of any fuzzies or stray hairs. They stood behind the chair and critically examined every millimeter of their work.

The Puppet Alchemist sat still as a statue and awaited fresh orders from his master.

/

This was going to be a great day.

For the Thule Society.

For Germany.

But most of all, for Dietlinde Eckart, director of the Thule Society.

She had dressed with care for this day in a ceremonial uniform rich with gold braid. Over it she wore a purple velvet cloak that swept the dirty stone floor behind her. At her heels, but careful not to tread on the cloaks hem followed her loyal subordinates: Haushofer, and Hess.

Even Himmler and Goebbels had come from Berlin to witness this great triumph.

The vanguard, Eckart in the lead entered the Great Hall and the presence of the Array. Dietlinde smiled to herself at the sight of the Shambalan, now brought to heel and completely obedient. The two soldiers clicked their heels and snapped to rigid attention.

The pressure around Dietlinde's heart eased. Everything was going perfectly, and she could relax - a little.

She halted in front of Edward and whirled around to face the others. "Gentlemen, and honored guests, behold!" she extended her left hand gracefully. "My puppet, the key to Shambala!"

Himmler's fat mug split in a wide grin, and even Goebbels's cadaverous face looked alive with mirth. The former man chuckled,"He's a bit - small - isn't he, Fraulein?"

Dietlinde's face darkened slightly. These men were from Hitler's inner circle and had to be treated with respect, but they were still arrogant fools. They didn't believe a mere _woman_ could pull this off. Even the great Fuhrer said good German women stayed in their place - _haus,kinder,kirche_.

She would show them all what a woman really was capable of.

Dietlinde thought and acted quickly, "Looks can be deceiving. This Shambalan was cunning and difficult to capture. But as you can see, he is now completely under my control, thanks to Dr. Mengele," she bowed her head in the doctor's direction and he flushed slightly, as if pleased. "Inside his mind, he holds the secret knowledge needed to open a portal to his world. I am able to tap that knowledge and he will obey without question."

She pointed theatrically and barked, "Awaken!"

Edward's eyes snapped open and gasps ran through the crowd. His golden eyes, the pupils constricted to small dots, seemed too large for his pale face. They blinked regularly, but otherwise were devoid of any expression.

He was a puppet and Eckart pulled the strings taut. "Stand up!"

They'd had a dry run yesterday when Eckart ordered Edward to complete the Array. After he'd finished, men moved in with special tools and incised all his chalk marks deeply into the stone floor. The Array could not be erased or changed.

Eckart nodded at Hess and he called out, "Sargeant! Bring in the sacrifices!"

Doors on the far side of the Array groaned open and a large mass of people came filing in, at least two hundred of them. Hitler had ordered their collection from mental institutions and nursing homes around the country: the physically and mentally handicapped parasites that drained the new German society of its energy. If not sacrificed, they would be herded into windowless buildings and gassed anyway. The fact most of them were also Jewish made the decision easier.

Herded by soldiers with submachine guns, the people shuffled slowly into the middle of the Array. Just in case of trouble, Mengele drugged their final meals with a mild tranquilizer. They would not know what was happening until it was too late to resist.

Once the sacrifices were all in place, Dietlinde issued her next order: "Trigger the Array!"

The Puppet Alchemist also walked slowly, as if he wasn't sure of his footing, until he reached the first incised line. He sank down to his knees and paused.

Eckart knew what he needed. _Blood_.

When she questioned him after the fourth dose of Puppetmaster, the Shambalan had revealed the role of blood in alchemy. She approached Edward as he held out his left hand and she took hold of it before pulling a small knife out of a pocket of her uniform.

The blade flashed and a small round dot of blood welled up on Edward's middle finger. Eckart hated to mess up the snowy white glove, but this was for the glory of the Fatherland. The Puppet Alchemist stared at the blood as if fascinated before he touched the blood with the fingers of his right hand.

Once a little blood was smeared on each finger tip, he was ready.

He reached down to the Array.

"Fraulein Eckart!? What is going on here?"

Dietlinde whirled around to see the rocketeers, led by Alfons Heidreich had entered the Great Hall. They stared in open mouth amazement at the Array, the sacrifices, and the Puppet Alchemist. The latter was frozen in place, as if waiting for the interruption to cease.

_Damnation!_ Eckart looked down and gritted her teeth, and then re-arranged her face into a dazzling smile before she looked back up at Alfons. "I am sorry, Herr Heidreich, but as you can see, we are quite busy."


	62. The Road To Shambala

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA, I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile.

**Author's note:** post movie and slightly AU. Some movie events will happen, but differently

**Warning:** movie spoilers, also violence and death. Maybe sex.

**Beta:** Jedimasterwithapen

_62. On The Road To Shambala_ (Die Straße zu Shambala)

"Fraulein!" Heidreich gasped in amazement. He recognized Himmler and Goebbels from newsreel films he'd seen at the movie theater and he was astonished. Plus curious. "What are all those people doing in that circle?"

"Why, Herr Heidreich. We are going to sacrifice them to open a portal to Shambala! You will go down in history as a hero because your fabulous rockets shall take us there. Would you like to come along?"

Still in a state of shock, Alfons stammered awkwardly,"B - but - but you can't _mean_ that Fraulein! The - they are human beings, this-this is wrong, this is very, very wrong!"

Eckart ground her teeth with annoyance, she should have known Heidreich and the other rocketeers- they were also exclaiming in horror-might be bothered by this.

"Don't be stupid, Heidreich! These are _sub_-humans, the retarded, blind, deaf, and crippled. They will be swept away before Hitler's mighty Third Reich takes its rightful place at ruler of two worlds. If you are foolish enough to try to block our glorious path, you will be brushed aside too."

Heidreich shook his head and took one step back. He looked sick, as if he'd finally realized what uses his rocket ships would be put to. Eckart stopped his flight with merely a nod to the soldiers.

Cries of alarm erupted from the rocketeers when they found themselves surrounded by stern-faced men with guns.

But Eckart hesitated on the verge of ordering all of them herded into the Array. It would be best if she kept one alive in case of problems with the rockets. "I decided Heidreich. I will keep you alive for now. Keep your mouth shut if you want to stay that way."

Alfons continued to protest even as two soldiers bound his hands behind his back, until a third man knocked him out with a firm tap from a rifle butt. He was dragged over to lay unconscious and bleeding by Eckart's feet.

"Fraulein?" the soldier's commanding officer asked. "What about the rest of the rocketeers?"

"Eliminate them."

/

Dietlinde Eckart would never forget the triggering of the Array as long as she lived. The sight of the blue light leaping high into the air, the sizzling and hissing sounds it made were engraved in her memory. Also engraved was the screams of the sacrifices-despite the tranquilizer they somehow knew something very bad was happening.

Several of the men behind her put their hands over their ears. Eckart very badly wanted to follow their lead, but she didn't dare, she must not show even a _hint_ of weakness in front of them.

The lights reached all the way to the high ceiling of the Great Hall and etched another circle. Everyone was looking at it when the screams ratcheted up to a new and terrifying pitch. Gasps of horror erupted at the sight of black arms snaking down from the ceiling, grabbing people and taking them up into the air to disappear into the other circle.

They were taken in small groups of three or four until all were gone and only the hum of power created by the Puppet Alchemist could be heard.

Then a wondrous thing happened.

A tinkling sound, like thousands of glass windows breaking at the same time was heard and the Portal opened. It was tiny at first, and then it separated into multiple copies of itself before they lined up and described a circle. This circle became bigger and bigger until it echoed the size of the Array on the floor below. The ceiling could no longer be seen, it was now replaced by a shimmering yellow void.

"The road to Shambala is open!" Eckart declared and spread her arms wide, and her triumph rang throughout the Great Hall.


	63. Through The Portal

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA, nor any historical characters. I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile.

**Author's note:** post series and slightly AU. Some movie events may happen, but differently

**Warnings:** Movie spoilers. Also violence and death, maybe sex.

**Beta:** Jedimasterwithapen

_63. Through the Portal_ (Durch das Portal)

_April, 1935-Munich,Germany_

Stunned silence greeted Eckart's proclamation and it echoed withoout interruption in the Great Hall until the sounds finally died away. Like most of the watchers, both Himmler and Goebbels were struck dumb and both stared slack-jawed up at the Portal.

They started when Eckart spoke. "Isn't it beautiful, gentlemen?"

"Frau-Fraulein, Eck-Eckart," Himmler was quite unlike his usual self. He took out a large handkerchief from his coat pocket, removed his hat and mopped the sweat from his receding hairline. "It seems w - we misjudged you."

"It is a glorious day for Germany!" declared Goebbels who was faster to recover his composure. "The Fuhrer will be very pleased by the news of your coming conquest of Shambala. Heil Hitler!"

He raised his right arm in the stiff Nazi salute and the rest scurried to copy him. Ragged shouts of "Heil Hitler!" echoed around the vast space for ninety seconds before the echoes died away.

Not to be outdone by the propaganda minister, Himmler replaced his hat, clicked his heels and bowed towards Eckart. "Please excuse me, Fraulein. I will telephone Berlin and inform the Fuhrer of your success."

He marched away towards Eckart's office and Goebbels followed right on his heels after mumbling something about needing to prepare a speech.

Dietlinde smiled contentedly. Those two fools would fight and scrap to be the first to tell Hitler and bask in the warmth of his approval. She was startled when footsteps sounded to her left and she turned to look.. With a genuine smile on his face, Karl Haushofer came up and took her hands in both of his and praised her.

Karl was one of the first members of the Thule Society and he was one of the few who stood by her through good times and bad. His simple words of congratulations meant more to her than all of Goebbels's high-flown speeches put together.

/

The Puppet Alchemist crouched forgotten by the edge of the Array, the dying blue lights reflected in his glassy golden eyes. He didn't even twitch when Rudolph Hess knelt down beside him. Not a murmur of protest did he make when the leather collar encircled his neck. Hess put two fingers between the collar and Edward's neck before he secured the buckle. It couldn't be too tight, nor could it be too loose.

The collar was just a thin band of tanned deerskin, perfectly oiled, with sterling silver buckles. The inner side was lined with lambs wool to prevent the chafing of the Shambalan's delicate skin. He clipped on the matching six-foot leash and gently tugged on it.

"Stand up!" Hess ordered.

Edward slowly rose to his feet, his face still a perfect blank.

"Hess? What are you doing?" Concern colored Dietlinde's voice when she saw Hess so close to her Puppet.

Rudolph Hess started guiltily before he smiled and held out the leash to Eckart. "The future ruler of Shambala should have fine strings for her puppet."

She took it with a surprised murmur of thanks. Hess was a true believer in the Thule Society as well as the Aryan race, and the ideals of the Third Reich. Maybe he believed too much because the man's zealous attitude skated close to the edge of insanity at times.

But Hess was spot on. She _WAS_ born to be a ruler, and now it was time to marshall her forces.

Eckart began to crisply issue orders - the launch of the rockets was set for twelve hours from now - soldiers had to be assembled and briefed, the ships loaded with arms and supplies - she wasn't sure how long the Portal would stay open.

Although she wasn't going to admit her doubts to anyone.

Last of all, she handed the leash over and ordered Edward's keepers to return him to his cell and feed him. He stumbled at first, like he'd forgotten how to walk, as if his legs needed time to remember.

Edward moved slowly, like he was sleepwalking.

/

Howls of anguish came from behind a locked door. Alfons Heidreich woke up cold and alone, and with his head aching horridly. He pounded on the door with both fists and demanded to know where his fellows, his colleagues were.

No answer came from without and finally a fit of coughing forced Alfons to stop. He fell to his knees feeling dizzy and sick because the coughing fit was hard enough to make his whole body shake. He breathed in shallow gasps and looked at dismay as blood filled the palm of his right hand.

A key rattled in the lock, the door opened and Karl Haushofer came in with a covered tray. He exclaimed in shock at the blood and knelt next to Alfons before he pulled out his own handkerchief and wiped blood off the younger man's mouth and hand. "Does Eckart know you have been coughing up blood?"

"No. I didn't tell anyone. I was afraid I would be forced to stop and let someone else take over. But, this is _MY_ project and my pride wouldn't let me show any weakness." Alfons looked up at Karl, silently pleading with him not to spill his secret.

Karl smiled and promised, "I will keep your secret, Herr Heidreich. But you must realize this one could be the death of you." He helped Alfons to his feet and led him over to a small wooden table with one chair. Then he returned with the tray, set it on the table and whipped off the cloth cover. "Eat your dinner now. I have orders to bring you to the Great Hall in an hour. Tonight we launch your rockets to Shambala."

/

Alfons couldn't help himself, at the sight of the Puppet Alchemist, he tried to launch himself at the silent figure. He wanted to punch him, slap him, pummel him until his arms gave out. But the soldiers holding his shoulders yanked him back and one cuffed his left ear with a fist.

Eckart was imperious before him. "Be proud, Herr Heidreich. You shall get to lead the invasion force into a new world, unlike one you've ever seen before!"

His hands were untied, and he was forced into the rear of the two-seated rocket plane where the controls were. From this cockpit, he would control the ascent, flight and landing of the machine.

He'd designed and built it with dreams, sweat, and his own two hands, Alfons knew every inch of it.

To his disgust, the puppet, the one who'd killed his friends was cajoled into the front cockpit and strapped into the front seat. The canopy was closed and locked and the launch platform cleared. Alfons hurrridly snapped shut his own belts, a protective webbing of his own design.

There was a gut-churning jerk when the hydraulic arms moved the platform from horizontal to vertical, then the twin engines fired and the entire jet shook as it moved ponderously into the air. Slowly at first, but it quickly gathered speed and roared up towards the Portal.

It glimmered and glittered as if mocking Alfons.

He was in an untenable position because he wanted to kill the puppet, even if he died too. But at the back of his mind, he was curious about this world Eckart kept yapping about. Alfons decided he wanted to see Shambala as well.

He would kill the puppet another day.

His left hand pulled the throttle all the way back, and the engines roared louder. The jet plane leapt forward, the force pushing Alfons back into his seat. The Portal glimmered hugely in front of him for a moment, and then they were inside it. All around the plane was yellow nothingness, but from the corners of his eye, Alfons thought he saw black hands trying and failing to seize the plane.

He figured he must have blacked out for a moment because when he came to himself again, the yellow was fading.

Then it was gone, replaced by a brightly shining sun, blue sky, and puffy white clouds. He said aloud to no one in particular.

"So, this is Shambala."


	64. Operation Longinus Begins

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA nor historical characters. I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile

**Author's note:** post series and slightly AU. Some movie events will happen, but differently

**Warnings:** movie spoilers. Also violence and death, maybe sex.

**Beta:** Jedimasterwithapen

_64. Operation Longinus begins_ (Betrieb Longinus fängt an)

The plane shook when first two, then four more of the one seat jets roared past and Alfons fought the controls to bring it back into trim. Once the machine was again level, he descended slowly and carefully through the clouds. He watched the instruments spin down the altitude and kept an eye open for his first view of land.

Then the clouds seemed to break apart and Alfons Heidreich beheld Shambala for the first time. He was conscious of a vague disappointment. This world looked distinctly underwhelming. Below him was endless meters of sand in every direction. Above the sand arced a blue sky full of the same puffy white clouds under a blazing white sun. Very pretty, but nothing to write home about.

Alfons looked at the plane's compass and noticed he was on a heading of due west. Far ahead were small black specks he realized were the one-seat jets. Because he didn't know where else to go, he decided to follow them.

He noticed the faint outline of buildings after a few minutes, and soon after they roared over a good-sized town. Ant-like dots below him were people looking up and he wondered if they knew about rockets, and if they spoke his language. Again, Alfons wondered what all the fuss about "Shambala" was about because so far it looked just like the world he'd left behind.

But before he knew it, the plane had left the town behind and he noticed the other planes were preparing to land. Alfons expertly tilted the control stick and came around in the maneuver known as "side slipping" to lose speed and altitude before he brought his machine down in a perfectly smooth landing. To his relief, the sand was packed hard enough to hold under the jets wheels.

He turned off the engine and listened to it tick quietly before he unlatched and pushed back the canopy over his seat. The heat of Shambala hit him like a mallet, and he gratefully soaked it all in like a sponge. It had been so cold in the factory he thought he would never be warm again. If Shamballa was this warm all the time, maybe he would never return to Germany.

He unbuckled his harness and decided he should release the Puppet from his as well. But he had barely taken a step out of his seat when armed men rushed up and demanded he come down. Alfons had already found out arguing with men holding guns wasn't a good idea, so he carefully backed down the footholds built into the plane's fuselage.

Alfon's feet had barely touched the sand when he was forced to his knees and his arms were bent behind his back and the wrists were tied together. He grunted in pain and protested, "Hey! Don't tie those ropes so tight!"

At least they set him down in the shade under the plane's wing and he watched the rest of the one seat jets, and then the cargo planes land. One came in at too sharp of an angle and it plowed an ungainly furrow in the sand, its nose crumpling flat by the time it came to a stop. But the seatbelts Alfons had mandated be installed in all the planes did their job and all the occupants survived without a scrape.

The Thule soldiers were well trained. They responded to orders bawled by their _Grupenfuhrers_ and mustered quickly to unload the supplies and set up a command post under a tent in a matter of minutes. More tents mushroomed around that central one until a mass the size of a small town was erected, complete with rudimentary streets and a roughly rectangular parade ground.

Eventually, both Alfons and the Puppet were moved to one of the recently erected tents where they sat together in silence. Alfons glanced at him from the corners of his eyes, but when the other man didn't react, he glared openly at the killer of his friends.

"Hey! You!" Alfons snapped, but the Puppet never responded. Alfons sighed in exasperation and stretched his legs out to relieve the pins and needles feelings in them. He was bored, plus hungry and thirsty. He had to pee too and hoped someone would come by and untie him soon before he wet his pants.

But it wasn't until the sun was beginning to set before two soldiers did come and do just that. He was rubbing his sore wrists when handcuffs were snapped shut around them. But at least his arms were now in front of him. Plus, the guards did lead them to a newly dug latrine and Alfons sighed with the most intense relief.

After they returned to the tent, one of the soldiers gave Alfons a cup of lukewarm water and a bowl of steaming hot beef stew while his fellow fed the Puppet.

"Open your mouth!" was the first order, and the Puppet obediently opened his mouth. A spoonful of stew went in, and it was followed by a second order of "Chew!"

Fortunately, once started, the Puppet seemed to be able to continue eating solely on instinct, although his blank stare was somewhat unnerving. After another hour passed the air grew chillier as the sun lowered under the western horizon, and Alfons began to shiver. His teeth were chattering when Eckart finally came by to inspect her Puppet.

"Make sure the rocketeer is also kept warm!" she ordered and one of the soldiers gave him two blankets. Alfons took them gratefully, he folded one to sit on and hunched in the wooly warmth of the other.

As night drew on and the sky filled with stars, two cots were set up and Alfons huddled under the blankets on one of them. The Puppet lay facing him on another, and he finally closed those staring, barely-blinking eyes once ordered to go to sleep.

Alfons thought he would never get to sleep himself, but exhaustion got the better of him and he slumbered, if fitfully on the narrow cot.

That was how his first day in the more mundane than mysterious world of Shambala came to an end.

Operation Longinus had begun.

Alfons awoke with a jolt the next morning as early sunlight filtered in through an opening in the tent. A bugle was blaring and men were shouting.

"What's going on?" he asked one of the guards.

"We've got visitors, Herr Hedreich. A delegation has come from the nearby town." The soldier leaned over and tapped the Puppet on his shoulder and snapped, "Wake up!"

Those staring golden eyes snapped open, half closed, blinked a few times, then opened fully.

"Sit up!" The Puppet obeyed instantly as Hess entered the tent. He bent down and waved a hand in front of the blond man's face, and smiled when the figure didn't even flinch.

"Get him washed up and brush off his clothes. Feed him some breakfast, give him a pill, and then bring him to the western side of the camp. Eckart wants our guests to see what they are up against in case they plan to defy us."

Alfons tagged along behind the Puppet and his two guards. No one stopped him, and no one seemed to care. He made sure to stop a few feet behind Eckart, who held the Puppet loosely on his leash as the delegation from the town approached.

A group of about a dozen people was led by a pretty woman who had two-toned hair - mostly brunette - but with a fringe of pink bangs. She wore a plain white dress of simple lines underneath a dark blue cloak to keep her warm in the morning chill.

Walking beside her was one of the largest men Alfons had ever seen. Neatly dressed in brown pants and vest, and a white shirt, he was nearly bald, except for a small curl of blond hair on his forehead. Pink sparkles inexplicably flashed next to the man's head and Alfons supposed they were caused by the angle of the sun. That could be the only explanation for them.

The two parties stared at one another for a few heartbeats, and then Eckart opened her mouth to speak.

But she was cut off by the other woman who spoke in a clear voice that brooked no argument.

"My name is Rose Thomas, and I am the Holy Mother of Lior. You are trespassing on Amestrian territory and you must leave. Now."

**Author's note #2:** Sadly, this is the final chapter to be betaed by Jedimasterwithapen, because her real life has gotten in the way. That is always more important then fictional ife, so I'll be delving back into the beta reader pool on .


	65. Occupation

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA, I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile

**Author's note:** post series semi drabbles. Some movie events may happen, but differently

**Summary:** Edward is finally captured after seven years on the run. He is first confined to the Angelika Nursing and Convalescent Home where he tries, and fails, to escape. The Thule Society takes custody after seven months. Edward tries to resist, but drugged and hypnotized, he has no will of his own and he opens a portal to the fabled world of Shambala. But the irresistible force of the Thule Army has met an immovable object in the form of one Rose Thomas.

**Warning:** Violence, death, really bad language and a zombie-fied alchemist.

**Beta:** Agent000

_65. Occupation_ (Besetzung)

Time stood still while the two women faced each other and Alfons could feel the hostility vibrating in the cool morning air.

"Silence!" Eckart barked angrily. "I am Dietlinde Eckart, and the leader of the Thule Society. I claim this world for the German Third Reich as proxy in the name of Fuhrer Adolf Hitler."

But Rose Thomas refused to be cowed. "What part of 'you are trespassing' do you not understand, Miss Eckart?" Her voice was crisp and underlaid by a core of steel.

Alfons didn't have a strong understanding of the Shambalan language,though it sounded a lot like English. Rose spoke too quickly for him to catch every word but he understood she was telling them to **go away**.

"I do not care for your tone, Shambalan." Dietlinde curled her lip. "I am in charge now and you will do as you are told or suffer the consequences, understand?" She gestured to one of the platoon leaders and he stepped forward, pulling his pistol from its holster.

He pointed the weapon at Rose's head and cocked the hammer. "You will be the first example of what happens to those who defy me, Fraulein Thomas," Dietlinde said in a smug tone.

Barely had the words "Shoot her," left Eckart's mouth when there was the distant crack of gunfire and a puff of smoke from an apartment tower in the town behind the Lioran delegation. A neat, red hole appeared in the middle of the man's temple and he crumpled to the ground. Eckart looked furious and Rose grinned at her angry face.

"Did you really think we were helpless here? Now turn around and leave this place, the sooner the better." Rose put her hands on her hips and stared defiantly at Eckart.

"I think not, Fraulein Thomas," Dietlinde replied with steel in her own voice. She tugged on the leash held between the fingers of her left hand. Edward shuffled out from between the taller soldiers who had hidden him from view. Alfons looked on in dismay when Rose's face paled and her eyes opened wide.

"Edward!" she gasped before her eyes narrowed and she snarled at Eckart. "Take that collar off him! He's a human being, not a damn dog!" She called louder in the Puppet's direction, "Edward! Edward! Snap out of it!"

Even the large man looked stricken at the sight and he stepped forward. "Edward Elric!" He turned a stormy blue-eyed glare in Eckart's direction. "What have you done to him?"

"It's not important," Eckart swaggered forward a few steps, forcing Rose to yield an equal number. "Herr Elric is entirely obedient to my will and if you value your life and those of your people, you will follow his example. For killing one of my men, this will be your punishment!"

She tugged on the leash again and ordered, "Puppet! Destroy that tower!"

Edward's eyes narrowed and his face twisted, causing even the soldiers around him to back away at the sudden change in his demeanor. His teeth bared in a scowl, he raised his hands and clapped them together before he knelt down and slammed the palms onto the ground. Rose and the others leaped aside as a red light hissed along the sand to the town behind him. It struck the tower a millisecond later, and the building shivered before it collapsed with a loud roar.

Dietlinde threw a triumphant smile at Rose. "Do you want another demonstration, Fraulein? My puppet will destroy your entire town unless you surrender. But I will be generous, and give you until sundown to do so. Guten morgen!"

She tugged on the leash again, spun on one heel and walked without a backward glance toward her tent, leading a now quiescent Edward behind her. The other soldiers drifted away om twos and threes until only Alfons was left. He looked helplessly at Rose, who stood staring at the ground. Not knowing what else to do, he bowed and murmured "Fraulein", before he turned away and returned to his tent.

/

"That bitch! That damned BITCH!" Rose seethed with fury while she looked at the rubble of the destroyed tower. "People lived here, innocent people! Women and children!" She choked up and couldn't say anymore. Her hands were balled so tight, the nails scored bloody half-moons into the palms. Rose shivered and angry tears leaked from her eyes, rolled down her cheeks, and dripped on the shattered bricks.

Alex Louis Armstrong put two massive hands on Rose's shoulders and he tried to comfort her. Now retired from his military career as the Strong Arm Alchemist, he was the unofficial Mayor of Lior and worked tirelessly on reconstruction of the town. The condition of Major Elric disturbed him and he was ashamed to admit he had frozen in shock at the sight of his young friend.

It had been only six years since Mustang's Rebellion had thrown the country into turmoil. Fuhrer Bradley was dead, the Flame Alchemist was gravely injuired, and the Fullmetal Alchemist had vanished into thin air. For many months, civilization had been just hanging by a thread until the remains of the Amestrian government announced the re-formation of Parliament and elections were held. The country was now stable after the Prime Minister made peace with the border states of Creta, Drachma and Aurego.

Life was returning to normal - correction - it _HAD _been returning to normal.

Rose's shoulders shook as she gave into copious tears and Alex could feel his eyes welling up too. "Until now, I thought seeing Ed dead on the floor of the opera house was the worst moment of my life, but when I saw him looking like a zombie, and on that leash, like he was a damned dog...!

Rose turned to bury her face into Alex's chest just before she started wailing her sadness. But Alex's eyes, so close to tears a moment ago, had dried up like magic. _Edward dead? WHAT opera house? Where? What was she talking about?_

These questions and others whirled through his mind while Rose's body shook, but he would let them wait until she was done soaking his shirt. She was calm again in a few minutes and she raised a tear-stained face to look him in the eye. "Thank you, my friend."

At sunset, the Holy Mother decided to that in order prevent any further loss of life, the city of Lior would capitulate - reluctantly - to the invaders. Eckart and the Thule Army officers moved into requisitioned buildings as their headquarters. But before Dietlinde made herself comfortable, she ensured her two most precious possessions - the Puppet and the Rocketeer - were secured in Mayor Armstrong's home.

/

Alfons didn't pay attention to the click of the door lock behind him. He was still a prisoner, but he'd just moved up to a more comfortable sort of cage. He explored the room - single bed - small bathroom, wooden desk and two chairs. He sat down on the mattress and bounced to test its firmness. Only one window over the desk, but it was large and let in plenty of light. He moved over to it and watched the sun sink below the horizon. Shouts from below made him look to the street two stories beneath. The evening patrol was just setting out to enforce the new curfew of the occupied city.

A week after the occupation began, a tired and hungry teenage boy trudged into the eastern sector of Lior. The sun was setting, and the boy noticed the air was beginning to get chilly. He paused briefly to button his red coat and pull the hood up over long hair the color of warm caramel.

**Author's note #2:** Please welcome my new beta, Agent000! She is raking me over the coals for my many errors (usually misuses of tense in the same sentence and "wordiness"), but I need someone to to be tough on me.


	66. The Prodigal Alchemist

The Waters of Lethe

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA, I just want to play around in its world and torture Ed for a while

**Author's note:** post series. Some movie events may happen, just differently

**Warning:** movie spoilers, also violence, death, bad language.

**Beta: **Agent000

_66. The Prodigal Alchemist_ (Der verschwenderische Alchemist)

_Lior, Eastern Frontier, Amestris. July 17, 1920_

Before he continued further into the city, the boy rummaged in an inside pocket of his coat. He pulled out a small coin purse made of brown leather and snapped it open. The leather was cracked and scuffed as evidence of heavy use in the four years since Izumi gave it to him as a parting gift. Dry, wind-reddened lips silently counted the coins stirred by long and agile fingers. Then those lips frowned with dismay. Only 500 cenz left, not enough for a night's stay at an inn.

_Oh well, I've slept rough before. I can do it again._ He eyed the sides of a nearby alley, they would help break the chilly desert wind. He had just taken two steps in its direction when someone whispered "Psstt!"

The boy stopped and looked curiously at the anxious face of a middle-aged woman and her hand beckoned him inside. "You have just arrived here, haven't you?"

"Yes, yes I have. Is something going on that I should know about?"

"Lior is occupied and we are under curfew. Quick! Come inside before the patrol sees you!"

The boy didn't need to be told twice. Confrontations with any sort of military were to be avoided at all costs. It was a lesson Izumi had drilled into him often. He tripped up the two steps to the threshold and entered, the door closing so fast it nearly struck his backside.

"Shhh!" The woman put a finger to her lips and the boy ducked next to her. He'd never seen another person look so frightened. Voices in a gutteral language sounded just outside and the boy cocked his head, listening hard. He'd learned to distinguish many different languages, and even speak some of them fluently in the four years he'd spent searching for Brother,but he'd never heard this language before, and his eyebrows drew together in concentration.

The voices, and the sound of several pairs of feet went past and faded away down the street and the woman relaxed. The fearful light died in her eyes and some of the furrows smoothed out on her forehead.

"Excuse me," the boy was still confused. "But I've never heard that language before, what sort of military is occupying Lior?"

"They are invaders! Invaders from another world! Just a few days ago, the ground shook, then an eye in the sky opened and flying machines appeared above Lior. They set up camp just outside the city and the Holy Mother went to tell them to leave.

"But," the woman's face crumpled and the boy's heart twisted in sympathy. "The invaders had an alchemist with them and he destroyed part of the city, killing several people. The Holy Mother had no choice; she had to let them occupy Lior to preserve innocent lives."

The boy leapt to his feet. "I have to see the Holy Mother! Can you direct me to where she lives?"

The horror struck look she shot at him seemed to suck all the oxygen out of the room. "No, don't! It's far too dangerous! Several people have been shot dead already. Stay - stay the night and you can go in the morning, after the curfew is lifted."

The boy was sure he could dodge the night patrol and find the Holy Mother's house,but tears brimming in the woman's eyes stopped him. "Please, please don't go. Just this morning the invaders displayed the bodies of two boys they'd shot last night for trying to sneak out of Lior. One of them looked to be your age."

The boy relented, he let the woman serve him a hot meal and give him a warm bed. He slept soundly, and awoke to bright sunlight streaming through slats of the window blinds. The inviting smell of bacon and eggs wafted under the closed bedroom door. He offered her the 500 cenz, but she refused and drew a map while he ate his breakfast. The woman gave him some final words of advice.

"Be very careful; don't look any of the invaders in the eye,and don't speak to any unless you are spoken to first. One of my neighbors was shot between the eyes for speaking sharply to one of their officers. Don't linger near the Mayor's residence either, they keep their Puppet there."

"Their Puppet?"

"An alchemist the head invader pulls around on a leash, like a dog. He's under some kind of spell and he stares straight ahead until she orders him to destroy a building. Then his face twists and he turns into an animal, glaring and snarling. Some people who've seen him close up claim he is Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist who saved Lior from Cornello the False Prophet years ago. But it can't be him, he disappeared the night Fuhrer Bradley was ki..."

Her voice trailed away when she saw the thunderstruck look on the boy's face. "No, please! Don't do anything foolish,boy!" She thrust the map into his hands. "Here is the map. Find the Holy Mother and speak to her. I've heard she is only pretending to cooperate with the invaders,but she is really organizing a resistance movement, and if you want to help Lior..."

"Yes, yes. I want to help! I'll go to the Holy Mother."

/

Rose Thomas dragged an index finger through the wet ring left by her coffee mug and made designs on the marble top of the cafe table, turned her head toward the street the better to avoid the blue eyes staring at her and watched the traffic of carts, delivery trucks and people on horseback jostling for space on the main street of Lior. The city bustle looked normal enough, unless she raised her eyes and saw the Nazi flags hanging from every lamppost. Or the gun-toting men in slate-gray uniforms standing guard at the front gate of the Mayor's House across the street. Or the anxious faces of the residents going about their daily business.

Rose flicked her gaze back to the stern eyes of Alex Armstrong who sat like a baby mountain on the other side of the table. He'd come to this cafe for coffee every morning since his arrival and was such a frequent customer the owner had a specially large reinforced chair made for him. Alex had been touched by the gesture, but he was not happy today. Rose had told him every detail she could remember of that night at the opera house, yet Alex still had questions.

"Miss Thomas, how did you get a boy, a baby, and an injured homunculus all the way to Risembool without anyone noticing? The military had all of Central under lock down after the Fuhrer's murder."

"Two boys were waiting in the church - Russell and Fletcher Tringham - they helped me quite a bit. Edward and Alphonse had met them a few years ago. They got us on a train, but they left it at Xenotime. I gather both were in a hurry to shake the dust of Central off their feet, although Russell was kind of cagey about what happened. Plus, Alphonse was very anxious to find his brother and he wanted to get to Risembool as fast as he could."

"So, if we were to get word to the Rockbell house, would Alphonse come to Lior?"

"Oh, no. He's not in Risembool anymore! His alchemy teacher, Izumi Curtis, came while I was there. After Alphonse begged her to teach him some more, he went back to Dublith with her and her husband."

Alex half-closed his eyes and hummed softly. "The Elric brothers have the strongest sibling bond I have ever seen. We must find Alphonse Elric because only he can free Edward!"

He was about to say something else when a voice spoke from behind him. "Excuse me, but did you say only Alphonse Elric can free Edward? Do you know where he is? Because I'm Alphonse Elric!"


	67. The Long Nightmare,part A

The Waters of Lethe

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA, I just like to play around in its world and torture Ed for a while.

**Author's note:** post series. Some movie events may happen, but differently

**Warning:** violence, language and death. Major Lovecraft type vibe in this chapter.

**Beta: **Took-baggins

_67. The Long Nightmare, part A_

Drops of sweat plopped down on the paper, smearing the barely dried ink and making it bleed into the paper's fibers like spiderwebs. At first Edward thought it was just the deep southern heat that made him sweat. The train clattered fast through the flat Mississippi delta, but it couldn't outrun the temperature shockwave. At nine in the morning, the mercury in thermometers all over the state of Mississippi were edging past eighty degrees.

Edward kept wiping his face off, but the sweat wouldn't stop coming. When the tremors began to shiver through his body and the car walls seemed to move back and forth, he finally realized why.

He was sick again.

_Malaria._

Just one mosquito bite. A simple blemish on his cheek that sentenced him to a lifetime of agony. The bacillus hid in his bloodsteam like a venemous spider, and then every eight to fourteen months it emerged to ravage him with chills,fever,headache and a nausea so profound he wanted to die.

He sighed and capped his pen before he reached into the leather valise next to him. A moment of digging about yielded a small dark brown glass bottle with a cork stopper. Edward pulled it out with his teeth, then tipped the bottle on to his right hand.

One small white pill rolled out and he cupped his palm to keep it in place.

_Quinine_. His lifeline. The medicine didn't stop the attacks of malaria,but it made them bearable. Edward reached with his left hand for the coffee cup, lifted and tilted it to his lips. He filled his mouth with some of the lukewarm brew,then paused when the train began shaking.

He waited for the train to finish crossing over the "points" before he stuck the pill between his lips, and then threw his head back to swallow the medicine. A shudder ran through him just then,as if the malaria was reminding him who was really in charge.

"Are you all right,mister?" Edward had been so focused,he'd never noticed the child who'd crawled on to the train seat opposite him. A girl dressed like a boy in dark pants,white shirt,blue suspenders and a matching cloth cap.

_Klose._

Edward knew he was dreaming right then.

After their difficult first meeting, he'd taunted Klose by jerring at her "you look like a paperboy!" But she'd asked for it because she'd called him a "shrimp", and crudely referred to Al as "a tin can". But despite their adversarial relaltionship, he'd still saved her life when the insane Majahal attempted to put her soul into one of his life-size dolls.

Majahal also attempted human transmutation and he saw the Gate.

But all he'd lost was his sanity.

It was so unfair.

"Mister?" The dream-Klose was persistent. "What is that?"

"My medicine, It's called quinine. It helps me with an illness called malaria." Edward was patient if apprehensive. Benign dream things too often turned into terrifying nightmare monsters.

"Quinine," she giggled,not a good sign. "That's a funny word, mister. What's your name?"

"Edward. Edward Thomson. Will you tell me yours?"

"Maribelle. Maribelle Lyonnase."

"That is a pretty name, Maribelle." Edward shivered again, this attack was progressing quickly. He would need to find a bed very soon. Even with the quinine, he still had to let the malaria run its course.

"Mister!" Maribelle's voice pitched higher in alarm. "You don't look so good!"

The walls of the train car were spinning around him and Edward supposed he fainted right then.

///////////////////////////////////

He woke up to an insistent movement of his head. Increasing awareness told him a small hand was gently slapping his cheek. He reaced out and seized with his right and was rewarded with a cessation of the movement,plus a short sharp shriek.

"OW!" Edward let go and opened his eyes.

Maribelle looked reproachfully at him while rubbing her left wrist. Tears trembled in her dark eyes and her lower lip stuck out.

"Sorry," he mumbled, feeling the heat of embarrassment, or just fever reddening his face. "I didn't mean that."

"O.K? I forgive you!" Maribelle's tears vanished in an instant and she got off him. Edward found himself laying on the floor of the train car. He stood up and instantly sat down again on an empty seat when his legs trembled and threatened to give out.

He wondered where her parents were until he remembered he was dreaming. Logic wasn't applicable in the dreamworld. "Excuse me, Maribelle, but I need your help."

"Sure, Mr. Thomson, anything! What is it?"

"The quinine doesn't stop the illness I have, it just keeps the attacks under control. Because I am going to be very ill for the next few days, I need to find a doctor at the train's next stop. Do you know of any?"

"Yeah,sure! The doctors Faust!"

"Doctors Faust?"

"Yeah, they're twins and they'll take good care of you until you get better. I'll take you to them, c'mon!"

Maribelle took Edward's left hand in an unnaturally strong grip and pulled him towards the door. He hesitated because the train was still moving very fast. "Wait!"

"Come ON, Mister!" An angry, impatient note crept into Maribelle's voice and she pulled with both hands. The door of the passenger car stood open and the landscape whizzed by in a blur. Edward's feet skidded on the floor.

"Maribelle! The train! It's still moving!"

Then they were falling through the air.

He knew the landing was going to hurt. And it did.

Edward jarred himself on the hard ground and he just lay there, breathless for a moment.

"Come ON, Mister!"

Maribelle was standing right next to him and she didn't look friendly anymore. Still, Edward got slowly to his feet, picked up his valise and let her take his hand. The nightmare monster was determined to lead him through hell. All he could do was go along and hope it wouldn't be too bad.

They walked together through the dusty red streets of a small town. No one was about, but Edward had the sense of eyes looking at him from behind curtained windows. The air was still, with a reddish cast. No birds sang, no dogs barked, no cars rattled down the road; but Edward gradually became aware of music in the distance.

It came closer and closer, and he eventually saw the source was a large marching band. The band members looked trim in red coats with white trim, white pants with red stripes down the sides, and shiny black shoes. Tall red hats with white visors and black chin straps completed their ensemble.

None of them had faces, just blank space,smooth and white as eggshells between hat brims and chin straps.

The tune the band played was eerily familiar and Edwardcaught himself humming along before realizing why. It was the Amestrian national anthem, he'd heard it often enough during army reviews on the parade ground at Central military HQ.

But...

There was something wrong with the song. It sounded strangely discordant and Edward listened harder before the mystery was explained. The marching band was playing two different songs- the second was also a national anthem.

The German national anthem.

The two songs overlapped briefly, and then rang out seperately before overlapping again. The cacophony reminded Edward of an out-of-tune piano and it made his head pound. But just as he was about to scream in pain, the music stopped abrupttly and silence rushed in with such force it hurt.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////

Time and space moved in a herky-jerky motion, like a badly threaded film. Suddenly, Edward and Maribelle were out in the country, and walking past endless cotton fields. She still held his right hand in a tight grip and he had to walk fast to keep up with her.

The air was still and hot. Great drops of sweat rolled down Edward's face and slid off his chin. They fell slowly, shining like jewels before they hit the red dirt with explosive force. His knees trembled when each drop fell.

"Maribelle, how far?"

"Not far, Mister." She was still frowning when she looked up at him.

Edward knew he would wake up screaming because of her.

The sound of sobbing caught his attention and he looked to his left. There in a bare field stood a large crowd of white people-clothes,hair,faces-all were bleached as if by sun exposure. They began to scream after Edward and Maribelle drew even with them and the sound was a like a drill straight into his brain.

"Why are they screaming!" Edward fell to his knees and clapped his hands over his ears.

"Because you killed them,mister." Maribelle grabbed his wrists and pulled them away, her expression was pitiless.

"I - I killed them?"

"You called the Gate, the Gate came and it took them all away." Some of the screaming turned to hysterical laughter and this new sound was even worse. "They had lives, they had families, but you took those away from them."

The screaming and the laughter stopped abruptly. As before, the silence boomed in painfully.

"But it's OK" Maribelle suddenly beamed a brilliant smile at him. "You didn't know what you were doing."

Such was the illogic of dreams when she suddenly announced a moment later, "We're here!"

They must have walked on further without Edward realizing it. Suddenly, the flat cotton fields were gone, replaced by a high black wrought-iron fence. Behind an imposing black gate stood a massive Victorian-style house of many windows, balconies and turrets. A white wooden sign attached to the fence announced in tall black letters:

**PHILLIP AND THOMAS FAUST, M.D.**

**GENERAL PRACTICE & OBSTETRICS**

**PRIVATE HOSPITAL**

**WHITES ONLY**

Edward didn't want to go in. But Maribelle was already pushing a large white buzzer located below the sign. There was a loud _click_ and the gates swung open silently.

He didn't want to go in. But she was already leading him forward down a wide driveway paved with white gravel. The gates slammed shut behind him with a terrible finality, like the slamming of a coffin lid.

There was no going back.

////////////////////////////

The air was infernally hot, or maybe it was just Edward's fever. The sun bounced off the white gravel and shone painfully into his eyes. He stumbled and recovered, then stumbled again. He fell to his hands and knees this time and the gravel cut into his palms like shards of glass.

Maribelle was shouting at him but he couldn't understand the words through the roaring in his ears. He was sweating so profusely the water poured off his face. He was on the verge of complete collapse and he couldn't stop trembling.

"Cease your struggles,Shambalan."

Edward whipped his head up,but he was alone. But of course, Mariebelle would vanish after completing her task of delivering him to Hell.

He struggled to his feet, picked up his valise and resumed walking towards the house. The lane seemed endlessly long, it was narrow and wide,straight and curvy. The magnolia trees that lined it were heavy with blossoms which were too big to be normal. They crinkled like paper when the wind blew,and their scent was so sweet it was almost nauseating.

The lane was shorter than Edward realized, or maybe his perception of distance was just shot to hell in the dream world. At the end of the lane was a circular driveway directly in front of the house, in the green space inside of the circle stood a gallows.

Envy hung by his neck from a noose tied to the top bar of the gallows . The rope creaked as the Sin twisted slowly in the wind. He'd been there for some time because his feet were skeletonized and his black outfit was faded and torn.

Edward walked closer until he was directly below the gallows and he looked up at his bitterest enemy,his inhuman half-brother. He jumped back with a startled cry when Envy suddenly turned his head and uttered a loud burst of laughter. Edward lost his balance and he fell heavily on his backside before he stared up in shock at the dead Homunculus.

Envy's long green hair jerked convulsively like it was alive, but his eyes,his violet eyes were gone. The sockets were just black pits where fat white maggots which writhed as if dancing the tarantella. The Sin continued to laugh harshly for another few seconds before he spoke with an ugly sneer on his dessicated face.

"You're a killer,just like me,little brother!"

The wind rose to a howling gale and the magnolia blossoms burst free, the petals whirling like tornadoes. They obscured the gallows and Envy,who screamed in terror. Then the flower storm was over and the gallows was gone,replaced by a green marble fountain of dolphins squirting water from their mouths.

Edward climbed unsteadily to his feet and he skirted the fountain warily. The dolphin's eyes followed him with malignant glares and Edward found himself searching his memory to remember if he'd ever done anything bad to a dolphin. At least they were made of marble and they couldn't follow him up the wide white wooden steps of the house. He hoped.

He stumbled on almost every step and the dolphins laughed with unpleasant _chur-chur_ noises until he finally made the wide veranda. This was a much cooler area which stretched as far as the eye could see in either direction. White wicker chairs sat invitingly next to the door, and Edward made for one because he needed to sit down and rest.

But the front door opened before he could do so and Edward had another unpleasant shock when he saw Gluttony standing there. The fat Sin wore a butler's uniform, the black material straining to cover his bulk, but his eyes were different,dark and sparkling with intelligence. He spoke in a surprisingly cultured tones, "May I help you,sir?"

"Um, I, um." Edward stuttered because he was surprised to hear Gluttony speak so clearly. The formerly dim-witted Sin sounded like an Ivy League university graduate. "I need a doctor."

"Won't you come in?" Gluttony opened the door wider and motioned for Edward to enter a large foyer. He did so feeling like he was making a terrible mistake. "Walk this way, please."

Gluttony led Edward into a small room off the foyer and motioned to an overstuffed sofa. "Wait here in the parlor, please. The doctor will see you as soon as he can."

Edward sat down gingerly on the edge of the sofa as the door closed, and then he heard the sound of a key in the lock. He looked nervously about the room, it was full of more overstuffed furniture, and small round tables, the surfaces of the latter were crowded with porcelain figures painted in garish colors, and glass cases of stuffed animals and birds. The walls were papered in a dusky rose color, that was flocked with strange designs in high relief. Edward assumed the flocking was made of velvet, although it looked like more like black mold.

He turned to look at the wall behind him. It was also papered, but most of the paper was covered over by framed photographs suspended from long wires in the Victorian manner. He supposed they were photographs of the Faust twins's ancestors, but they were mighty strange looking ones. The closest portriat to him, on top of a small round table next to the sofa was the standard wedding photo: the man in a dark colored suit with a white flower in his buttonhole. His hair was plastered down with some kind of oil and he looked acutely uncomfortable.

Maybe the flower smelled bad, Edward surmised. Because the blossom wasn't the usual white carnation, instead it was an an obscene creation which looked somewhat like a lily. The petals were long and drooping,the stamens were dark and fat, and the shade was whiter than white, more like the bloated fish belly white of a drowned corpse. Edward shook his head in a van attempt to rid his mind of that unpleasant picture. He instantly regretted it when a wave of nausea fluttered across his stomach. Only with a strong effort did Edward force back the urge to vomit.

The more he looked at the portrait, the more he disliked it. The background, once the benign standard set of a professional stuio photographer of the nineteenth century had morphed into something like a Heironymous Bosch painting. The nightmarish shapes writhing on the panels reminded Edward of the other dimensional horrors faced by Carnacki, the fictional "ghost finder". But the bride...

She sat in a large gilded chair by which her new husband stood obediantly, and she was quite the fattest woman Edward had ever seen. She could have been a living personification of "the goddess of Willendorf" because she had only short, flabby stumps for arms, her wedding ring was a tiny glint among fingers so obese they looked like gigantic maggots. The rest of her was a round glob of blubber covered by a tent-sized dress of a dark shade of velvet. She had no discernible neck and her tiny black eyes floated like raisins in a bowl of lard.

Her hair was piled indordinately high and fell about her chubby face in elaborate ringlets. Nestled in the hair was a diamond tiara, and from that floated down an enormous white veil which stretched around the back and sides of the chair to the floor. Edward tore his eyes away from the portrait and he looked over at the door, but silence reigned without. He hoped the Gluttony-butler didn't forget to tell the Faust twins a new patient was waiting. He looked back at the portrait.

Here he received another surprise. Before, the bride and groom seemed to be just staring out into space, but now they looked directly at him. Neither looked friendly, in fact the stares were decidedly hostile in intent. Edward knew he was being silly, yet he gulped nervously. Coming here had been a mistake. He wanted to stand up, but his legs didn't seem to get the message. He risked a sidelong glance at the wedding portrait and realized with an unpleasant shock the couple were openly glaring at him now.

A new prickle of fear ran through Edward when the whispering started. It seemed to come from everywhere: the corners of the room, the porcelain figures on the tables - and the photographs on the wall.

He moaned aloud when the word they whispered became audible.

_Murderer..._

He jumped in inch off the sofa when the word was spoken loudly by both bride and groom.

"Murderer!"

Edward put his hands over his ears and screwed his eyes shut. "Stop it!"

"MURDERER!"

"It wasn't my fault, they drugged me!" a sob crawled up his throat and burst between his lips. "I had no will of my own, stop it! Please!"

"You killed all those innocent people, just so you could go home!" the obese bride accused.

"NO! I didn't! I wouldn't do it willingly, so I was drugged!"

Edward finally screamed, a loud wail of despair and pain. It seemed to break the spell because he could finally stand up. But he fell heavily to his knees after just one step. The entire room seemed to be shouting at him and it made him frantic with terror. Since he couldn't walk, he crawled to the door as fast as he could. He was panting like an overworked steam engine pulling a large train up a steep hill. The air had become hot and thick and breathing was difficult. Edward reached up and grasped the door knob, then tried to turn it, but it wouldn't budge. He pulled himself up and tried again, but the door was well and truly locked.

Edward tugged widly at it. "Please! Let me out, please!"

He let go of the knob with one hand so he could pound on the door. That proved to be a mistake as his knees buckled and he fell back to the floor. Then, a new horror made itself known.

A grand piano was on the other side of the room, its closed lid covered with a colorful fringed shawl decorated with embroidered roses. Over the shawl, the top of the piano was crowded with framed photographs, stuffed birds and animals in glass cases, and a heavy glass vase of red roses. The keys were covered, but now the cover slid slowly back and the piano began to play, the keys depressing as if touched by invisible fingers. Edward recongnized the tune instantly.

Chopin.

The Death March.

_Pray for the dead and the dead will pray for you._

The playing was soft at first, then louder and louder, and then the piano began to move in his direction. The vase of flowers fell off first, the glass shattering with a tremendous crash.

The photographs toppled over next, and finally the glass cases of stuffed creatures. They screeched with a terrible sound as the wheels of the piano crushed them. The Death March repeated the same motif faster and faster, the sound punctuated by smashing glass and breaking wood as the piano plowed into the delicate tables that made the parlor an obstacle course.

"No." Edward breathed in disbelief, unable to believe his eyes. "No! This can't be happening!"

The words barely left his lips before the sofa also began to move. First one end swung around until the entire piece of furniture faced him, then it pushed ponderously forward, rucking up the faded woolen carpet.

"No! NO! **NO!** Edward closed his eyes again and screamed. "Please, stop it! STOP!"

It was a toss-up as to wether the piano or the sofa would get to him first. The figures in the photographs were still shouting at the top of their voices, **"MURDERER!!"**

Edward was openly crying, fat tears leaked under his hands and rolled down his cheeks along with the sweat and dripped like a waterfall off his chin. "STOP IT, PLEASE! I didn't want to kill them! I - don't want to hurt anyone!"

"I - I'm...sorry!"

The cacophony stopped.

A key rattled in the lock and the door opened, letting in a welcome gust of cool air. A soft voice asked, "What's all this noise about? I came as quickly as I could."

Edward opened his eyes. The parlor was as it had been when he first entered. All the furniture was in place, nothing was broken and the bridal couple stared blandly out of the portrait frame.

This was all too much for Edward, and he passed out.

////////////////////////////////////


	68. Caretaker

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA, I just like to play around in its world and torture Ed for awhile.

**Author's note:** post series, some movie events may happen,but differently

**Warning:** violence,blood,death and maybe sex.

**Beta:** Took-baggins

_68: The Caretaker_

Sergeant Willi Braun was a man of action.

Why he'd been placed on desk duty was both a mystery and an insult. He wanted to be out in the field, bawling commands at troops instead of herding papers indoors. Yet here he was, filling out requisition forms for toilet paper and tent stakes. After completing one form, he looked over at the **IN** basket that overflowed with a pile of staggering height. Willi dropped his pen and flexed his aching fingers, sat back in his chair and blew out a long breath.

_Boooorrriiinnnggg!_

For perhaps the twelvth time that morning, he grunted his displeasure at his change in fortune. His comrades had come by yesterday about lunchtime to conplain about their lot in life. While he got to loll around indoors, they had to sweat outside and dig defensive earthworks all around the city of Lior. It was hot and dusty work, doubly frustrating because of the sandy nature of the soil.

The pilots of the scout planes sent out three times a day had reported sighting a long train pulled by four puffing steam engines headed their way. Hundreds of heads had poked out of passenger car windows when they passed over, plus the pilots counted many shrouded artillery pieces tied down on flat cars.

The enemy was coming.

Time to get ready for battle.

But he was stuck inside,listening to his muscles soften. Sergeant Braun would never admit it to the others, but he longed to be out there with them. When the front door of Thule headquarters opened, he looked up with anticipation, hoping against hope _Grupenfuhrer_ Bauer would finally spring him from this prison.

But no such luck. Instead of his group leader, the visitor was that damn woman, Fraulein Thomas. The so-called Holy Mother. Sergeant Braun couldn't help the sneer plastering itself across his face. What self-respecting woman had pink in her hair for God's sake?

He opened his mouth to say something cutting, then snapped it shut again when he saw she wasn't alone. Right behind her came Mayor Armstrong. Despite the civilian clothes he wore, Braun could tell a former military man a mile away.

He had the bearing,the attitude,the _look_. He had killed in battle, the smell of death wrapped around all soldiers who'd seen battle was ineradicable.

Out of respect for the Mayor,Braun held his tongue. Yet he frowned at the third person who'd come in behind the Mayor, hidden by his bullk. A tall,thin youth casually dressed in dark pants,a black short sleeve top and over that,an unbuttoned green shirt. He had a mass of hair the color of warm caramel tied in a long , but neatly trimmed ponytail that cascaded down his back, swinging as he walked.

Still, Braun could feel the sneer re-plaster itself on his face. Proper boys did not wear their hair long like girls, nor dress in such a sloppy manner. How he despised these Shambalans.

"Yes, Fraulein? How may I help you?" Braun put as much cold rudeness into his voice as possible. At every opportunity, the Shambalans needed to be shown who was in charge.

The briefest flash of irratation shot across Rose's face before she forced her lips into a pleasant smile.  
"Fraulein Eckart requested I supply a caretaker for the Rocketeer and the-ah- Puppet. May I introduce this boy," she took the boy by the arm and led him closer before she pushed him forward. " his name is Alphonse Rockbell."

Alphonse gave Braun a weak smile before he ducked his head, because the invader's cold grey eyes made him intensely nervous. His heart pounded like thunder in his chest,and it amazed him the Sargeant couldn't hear it. If this worked, he would see Brother again.

There were so many thing he wanted to tell him.

_I love you. _

_I missed you._

_I can't remember..._

So many things he wanted to ask him.

_Where have you been?_

_What happened after we tried to bring mom back?_

**"BOY!!"**

Alphonse jumped when the word cracked out like a whip. His fault for not paying attention, for daydreaming about the day he would find Edward. He pushed the daydreams to the back of his mind and tried to pay closer attention to the barrel-chested man in the grey uniform.

Braun loomed like a wall in front of Alphonse who very properly trembled as if in fear. But the truth was, Alphonse was still a bit excited. After he'd spoken to Rose and that huge man, she'd whsiked him inside the cafe, and then to a small room upstairs.

Here she'd sketched out for Alphonse what had occurred a week ago. At the news the invaders had Edward imprisoned just across the street, he'd jumped up from his chair. Only to be returned to the wooden seat by the huge bald man.

Alphonse looked up at him with an angry glare. He wanted to run down the stairs and across to the Mayor's House. He would burst in and find Edward, and then he would...

"Do what, Alphonse?" Rose's sarcasm was cutting, as if she read this thoughts. "If the guards didn't shoot you dead on the spot, they would arrest you and toss you in jail. Lior is no longer free Alphonse. For the moment, we must be very careful."

The dismay must have been writ large on Alphonse's face because the large bald man suddenly lifted him out of the chair and into a bone-crushing hug.

"ALPHONSE ELRIC! HOW NICE IT IS TO SEE YOU BACK IN YOUR BODY! BUT HOW SAD YOUR BROTHER IS A PRISONER OF THOSE HEARTLESS INVADERS! TOGETHER WE SHALL FREE HIM AND..."

Alphonse squawked in alarm and he drummed his heels against Alex's legs as his need to breathe became acute. He supposed the pink sparkles were a symptom of oxygen debt. Who was this man and how did he know him and Edward?

"Mayor Armstrong! Get a hold of yourself!" The plan Rose was hatching would come to naught if Alex suffocated Alphonse.

She finally got through to the overwrought alchemist and he set Alphonse gently back down on the chair. The boy closed his brown eyes and breathed a large chunk of air in gratefully, and then breathed out slowly. In. Out. In. Out. Until his lungs stopped aching.

"Feel better, Alphonse?" When the boy nodded, Rose smiled again and puffed out the breath she'd been holding. "Okay, this is the plan I've come up with..."

////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Alphonse trudged up the stairs behind Sargeant Braun, his heart pounding so loudly, he still was conscious of a vague surprise no one else could hear it. He'd been accepted as caretaker of the two prisoners and the success of Rose's plan was all up to him now. He clenched his fists as he climbed, and silently vowed not to fail.

He eyed the Sargeant's broad back, it was even wider than Alphonse was and the grey material strained to cover bulging muscles. When the time to rebel came, he would have to be sure he wasn't in Braun's reach, the man looked strong enough to break him in two. Alphonse was so lost in thoughts of the future, he stumbled on the topmost step and nearly fell flat on his face.

"Watch it, boy," the Sargeant's voice grumbled in his chest like faraway thunder, causing Alphonse to blush, duck his head and stammer an apology. Braun removed a ring of keys from his belt and unlocked a wooden door directly across from the stairway, turned the knob and pushed the door open.

"This prisoner is Alfons Heidreich, the Rocketeer. He doesn't speak your language, but he can pretty much care for himself. Your only duties will be to take up meals and whatever materials he requests, and keep his room clean. Go on in and say hello."

Head still bowed, Alphonse stepped over the threshold before raising his gaze to the thin blond man who'd stood up from a desk by a wide window. He gasped and stopped dead in his tracks, and heard an answering gasp from the Rocketeer. It was like looking at a photographic negative of himself.

////////////////////////////////////////

Braun was speaking to him in German, but Alfons only had eyes for the boy who'd been appointed his "caretaker". With a few differences in style of clothing, length and color of hair, and color of eyes, the boy was his _doppelganger_, a nearly exact twin.

Alfons gulped audibly. His grandmother used to tell him scary stories about _doppelgangers_, and how meeting one was a premonition of death. Fear froze him for a moment before his rational mind reasserted itself. _Grossmutter_ also told him cats sucked the breath from babies, but he knew that wasn't true. He took a deep breath and shook the hand of the boy, who Braun introduced as Alphonse Rockbell.

By the time their brief meeting was over, Alfons felt calmer than he'd had in a long time, he even felt a small measure of happiness. Despite the language differences, he felt they would become friends. He sat back down at his desk, already covered with blueprints and notes, and watched while Braun unlocked the door in the opposite wall. That was wise of him, because The Puppet was kept in that room, and Alfons still planned to kill him.

///////////////////////////////////////////

Blood pounded through his veins and set up a cacophony in his brain, Alphonse could barely contain himself after the knob was turned and the door swung open. He had this urge to shove Braun aside and run to his brother, throw his arms around him and hug the stuffing out of Edward. Alphonse bit the inside of his cheek to bring this rebellious urge under control until the Sargeant finally moved aside.

A lone figure in a chair was silhouetted against a twin to the wide window in the other room, the light coming through it making it a bit indistinct. The figure was absolutely still and a frisson of fear made Alphonse tremble briefly. The other man had stood up in an instant, but Edward hadn't so much as twitched.

Braun leaned back against the window once they'd reached it, crossed his arms and looked at Alphonse,a smug smile upon his face. "Don't bother talking to him, boy, he won't respond. Or rather he can't. We keep him under control with a special drug. Otherwise, we couldn't handle him."

Alphonse breathed shallowly through his mouth, because he was so overwrought he was afraid he'd throw up. Six long years he'd waited to see the smiling face he loved so much, and...

His brother sat still as a statue in a wooden chair, he was neatlly dressed in a white shirt under a dark green figured vest, and pants of a paler green. His gloved hands were folded in his lap, and his head was slightly bowed, as if contemplating them. Edward was older, the planes of his adult face had emerged from the roundness of childhood, and his blond hair was far longer than Alphonse remembered. His eyes were closed and he appeared to be asleep, until Braun barked in a loud voice that made Alphonse leap fully an inch off the floor, "WAKE UP!"

Alphonse gasped in horror when Edward's eyes snapped open. They were as golden as ever, but glassy and staring, the eerie effect reinforced by the tiny pinpricks his pupils had shrunk to.

"We call this one the Puppet, boy. He can do some things like feeding himself, but you have to get him started first. You'll be responsible for bathing and dressing him, and making sure he looks presentable in case Fraulein Eckart or Dr. Mengele visit "

With a jerk of one thumb, Braun indicated the brown glass bottle upon the white marble top of a dark wood chest of drawers. "You must give him a pill twice a day without fail,because he's liable to come out of his trance if a dose is missed. Do you understand?"

Alphonse tore his eyes away from Edward long enough to nod at the Sargeant. "The two soldiers who were caring for him gave him a bath and washed his hair this morning,so he's good for today. It'll be lunch time in a few hours and the food will be brought up via a dumb waiter in the hall. Come here and I'll show you where."

///////////////////////////

Alphonse had the routine down pat before lunchtime. When a bell rang out, he went out the hall door of his brother's room to a square wooden panel set into the opposite wall. It was set into what looked like a window frame, and had a handle carved into the lower lip.

Behind it was the dumb waiter, a small elevator in a shaft which extended from the kitchens in the basement to the topmost floor of the Mayor's house. A small platform attached to caster wheels set into metal guide tracks on the walls enabled it to move smoothly up and down. When the food was ready, the plates and bowls were put onto covered trays and loaded onto the platform. Then a kitchen worker pulled on a rope to move the platform upwards, a rudimentary system of lights on a wall panel told him the location of the platform after it moved up out of sight in the darkness.

When the platform reached the desired floor, the worker would tug the rope to lock the wheels in place and a bell dinged to signal the occupants on that floor dinner was served. Alphonse pulled up on the door and it slid smoothly to reveal three metal trays with lids of the same material. He took two of the trays to the room Edward was in before coming back for the third. This tray he set on a wheeled wooden cart before he reached into the shaft and tugged on another rope. This unlocked the wheels and he slowly lowered the dumb waiter back down to the kitchens until a voice floated up the shaft. "Got it! Thanks!"

Alphonse slid the panel back down until it closed, and then he wheeled the cart to the door of The Rocketeer's room. He dug into his right pants pocket for the key and unlocked the door before taking the cart inside. Alfons was still at his desk and he seemed to be working hard.

"Lunchtime!"

///////////////////////

Alfons reluctantly got up from his desk to eat lunch, despite the difficult circumstances, he'd had some ideas for improvements to the engines and he'd been busily working on the designs since yesterday. He linked hands together and stretched the kinks out of his back, groaning slightly when his shoulders popped, before he got up and came over to a small square table covered with a white cloth and one place setting. The caretaker swept the cover off the tray and Alfons frowned at his lunch. His _doppelganger_ noticed the collapse of Alfon's expression and looked down. He also frowned.

"What is that?"

Pork hocks and sauerkraut with sides of mashed potatoes and cooked carrots. Good solid German food, the kind that stuck to one's ribs and kept one going all afternoon. Alfons smiled at his _doppelganger's_ frown which had deepened into a scowl and he repeated the sentiment in German. The caretaker looked confused for a moment before his face suddenly brightened, as if an idea had suddenly struck him.

Now it was Alfons's turn to feel confusion when the boy picked up the offending tray and set it aside before he walked over to the desk and rummanged in the mess for a moment before returning with one of the many fountain pens there because Alfons tended to go through one a day at least. The _doppelganger_ bent over the white cloth and he drew an intricate circle design with several intersecting lines before he replaced the tray right in the middle.

Alfons's blue eyes widened in surprise and not a little fear after the boy placed both hands on the edge of the circle because a yellow light rose like a curtain from the table and commenced to whirl as flashes of light like static shot into the air. A subtle humming noise, like a hive of contented honeybees accompanied the light show as the food on the tray began to _melt_ and then rise up, contorting into swirled shapes as they did so.

It seemed to take a long time, but the transmutation was over in a moment, and Alfons stared in shock at his transformed lunch. The pork hocks and sauerkraut now were four thick slices of roast beef covered with a fragrant brown gravy, and the mashed potatoes were now a baked potato, brimming with butter and sour cream. Only the cooked carrots remained cooked carrots, but they'd regained their former bright orange color instead of the pale, overdone mess they'd been only a moment before.

Alfons sat down with a thump in a chair and gawked in utter amazement. _Alchemy can do THIS too??!!_ Struck by a sudden inspiration, Alfons grabbed for the fork next to the tray and dug it into the baked potato, and he paused for a moment before putting it into his mouth. It LOOKED like baked potato mixed with butter and sour cream and it SMELLED like baked potato, butter and sour cream. He stuck it into his mouth and closed his eyes as if in reverence to the Food Gods.

It was delicious. And also very hot, so hot the inside of his mouth was burning. The caretaker heard the frantic noises of distress Alfons was making and he quickly poured a glass from the carafe that was always kept full of ice water on the table. Alfons grabbed the glass and he drank a few sips with gratitude. It was his fault for taking such a large bite and he gave the caretaker an abashed smile accompanied with a slight reddening across his cheekbones. He chewed and swallowed the mass before daring to speak.

"Danke."

///////////////////////////////

After Alphonse left the Rocketeer happily eating his transformed lunch, he went back out into the hall, relocking the door as he did so. He was disappointed to see Brother hadn't moved an inch, not even to investigate the smells coming from underneath the tray lids. Alphonse had a very dim memory of Edward never being late for a meal, plus wonderment at his considerable appetite. But in Edward's defense, he'd been a very active boy with an extremely fast metabolism who needed lots of fuel. Performing alchemy really took it out of him and Alphonse recalled even he was ravenous after a transmutation.

He also performed alchemy on their lunches, but into two heaping bowlfuls of beef stew, the way Mom used to make it. The mashed potatoes he turned into two small loaves of crusty bread, although he left the carrots largely unchanged. He went over to Edward. put one hand under his left elbow and said "Stand up" in a gentle voice and Edward slowly stood up, like a string-less marionnette. This made Alphonse shiver for some unknown reason, but he fought off the uncomfortable feeling and steered Edward over to the table and made him sit down.

He picked up the spoon and dipped up a small quantity of the stew before he moved it to Edward's lips.

"Open your mouth." Alphonse slipped the spoon inside and Edward promptly closed his mouth on it, although not tight enough he couldn't pull the spoon out. "Chew." He put the spoon into Edward's hand and watched him start eating on his own for a bit before he puffed out a breath and went around the table to eat his own lunch.

An hour later, he reversed the table cloth to hide the transmutation circle, no need for the Nazis to see that he could also perform alchemy. Alphonse then went over to his double's room and did the same after he collected the tray. When the Rocketeer smiled from his desk where he was back at work, Alphonse smiled back and held a finger to his lips. _This is our secret_.

///////////////////////

For fear the light would be seen shining through the windows, Alphonse was unable to transmute supper as well, but slices of roast turkey with cranberry sauce and sauteed asparagus weren't so bad. Before he cleaned Edward's teeth, Alphonse had to give him his second dose of the drug for the day. He glared at the dull brown pill in disgust, but it obstinately refused to shrivel away and disappear. It had a score line through the middle and Alphonse made a quick decision.

He snapped the pill in half, put one in his pocket and gave the other to Edward. After he'd swallowed it with a sip of water, Alphonse leaned in close to his brother and whispered quietly in his ear.

"Many years ago, Brother, you rescued me. Now I'm going to rescue you."

He brushed his lips across Edward's forehead before leading him to the bathroom to help him brush his teeth and wash his face. Finally, after he settled Edward into bed and told him to go to sleep, he opened the connecting door, poked his head through and wished the Rocketeer "goodnight" before relocking it. He set the lock on the main door to Edward's room and looked back at his brother. A shaft of moonlight lit up his face as he lay in an apparent deep sleep and as Alphonse watched, Edward groaned softly and turned over, his back to the window. Alphonse's throat tightened up and he closed the door quickly.

He kept his jaw set as he walked down the stairs, said "goodnight" to the guard at the front desk and walked across the street to the cafe where he'd met Rose and Alex just that morning, although it seemed an entire year ago. He nodded slightly, his jaw still set to the cafe owner who was closing up for the night and climbed the stairs to the small bedroom he'd been given to sleep in. Alphonse got ready for bed with mechanical motions, brushing his teeth, washing his face and using the toilet.

He pulled on a pair of fleece pajamas because Lioran nights were chilly, snapped out the light and crawled into bed, suddenly exhausted from a long and emotionally draining day. But he couldn't seemed to close his eyes and he laid under the blankets, his hands behind his head. The wait seemed to take half the night, but the tears came at last and he cried himself to sleep.


	69. The Long Nightmare, part B

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA, I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for a while. On the other hand, I DO claim ownership of any OCs I've created.

**Author's note:** post series. Some movie events may happen, but differently.

**Summary:** Deep under control of the Puppermaster drug, Edward is having a mostly terrifying waking nightmare.

**Warning:** violence, death, and bad language. Possible sex.

**Lyrics: **"Attack Ships On Fire" by Ministry, although I prefer the version by Luc van Acker.

**Beta: **Took-baggins

69. _The Long Nightmare, Part B_ (Der lange Albtraum)

_Time and time and time again,_

_Tossing and turning and freezing and burning._

_Time and time and time again,_

_Another bad dream and another dead ending._

He came to in a room he didn't recognize.

White was his first impression. There was a canopy over the bed, hung with white mosquito netting, and thebed sheets were also white. He turned his head to his right. A wooden chair and a large bedside table, both painted white stood next to the bed. On top of the table was a white enamel basin with a white washcloth balanced upon its rim. Next to the basin was a small clear glass bottle full of white pills, an empty cup and a glass carafe half-full of water.

Edward looked to his left, but it was another white wall. This one was punctuated by a window, but it was covered by white gauze curtains so thick, he couldn't see outside. A cool breeze ruffled them and came through the netting to play over his sweaty face. He picked restlessly at the sheets with his flesh hand; they were crisp with far too much starch and smelled of bleach. A strong tremor ran through him and he moaned softly before he closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

_Someone somewhere wake me up._

_Someone somewhere wake me up._

_Someone somewhere wake me up._

_Someone somewhere WAKE ME UP!_

When he came to a second time, Lust was bending over him while she daubed his face with a washcloth. She was dressed in a white uniform, its severe lines doing little to hide her luscious curves, with a small white cap pinned to black hair scraped back from her face and tied into a tight bun at the back of her head. A silver metal nametag pinned above one ample breast said "Desiree" and she appeared to be a normal nurse until he looked more closely at her eyes. She had none, just gaping black caverns with edges that shone red and wet.

Her face was pale yellow and the skin was of a translucent paper-like consistency, as if it would tear easily. Deep lines scored from her nose, past her mouth and down to her chin. More lines radiated, like wheel spokes from the corners of her eyes, and horizontally on her forehead. Her mouth wore lipstick of too red a shade, thickly and inexpertly applied and Edward could see more lines around her mouth as if her lips were often pursed around a cigarette.

Desiree finished daubing his face, straightened up and walked two steps to the white basin on the bedside table where she swished the cloth in the water and twisted it dry with a quick motion like she was breaking someone's neck. Edward shivered involuntarily at the sight, and again when she approached him with the freshly dampened cloth. He closed his eyes before she dabbed the sweat off his forehead.

"You poor thing," she crooned in the same tone of voice Lust used and it made goose flesh pop up on Edward's arms to hear those words spoken by the _doppelganger_ of the homunculus who used to be his enemy. "Other have always used you for their own ends: Colonel Mustang, Dante, Winry, your father and even your own brother. It's time you stood up for youself."

Desiree folded the cloth and set it next to the basin before she picked up the water carafe and poured a few splashes into the glass. Next, she picked up the pill bottle, tipped one onto the palm of her left hand and placed it between Edward's lips. The hand she slid underneath his shoulders was as cold as ice as she lifted him into a sitting position, Desiree seemed unnaturally strong because she firmly held him up with just one hand while she tilted the glass against his mouth with the other. He drank and swallowed while carefully not looking at her face.

"Try to get some sleep now," she ordered while setting him back onto his pillow and pulling one sheet up to his chin. The mattress opened lengthwise, like a gigantic toothless mouth that swallowed Edward whole, so fast he didn't have time to scream.

_Time and time and time again,_

_Same old story till the night-time ends._

_TIme and time and time again,_

_Same dark covers and same dark lens._

He woke up a third time with a strong feeling he wasn't alone and the moment he opened his eyes a face on either side of the bed popped into his field of view. Two men wearing identical crisp white tunics, identical thin smiles, identical blue eyes and identical red hair.

The doctors Faust, Phillip and Thomas.

However, they were not identical twins. The man on Edward's left was extremely fat, his face was as round and red as a cherry pie, the skin straining to hold all the Faust-ness inside. Even his eyes were round and portrubent like over-filled balloons about ready to pop. The other man was the exact opposite, so exceedingly thin he would have disappeared if he turned sideways. His face and eyes were long and narrow, ending in a chin so pointed it could have doubled as an ice pick. Both doctors were such caricatures of body types they could be identical only in that sense.

"He's awake, brother," said the fat Dr. Faust and even his voice was roly-poly, although not particularly jolly sounding.

"Yes, he is," agreed his svelte brother, the other Dr. Faust, who had a deep, lugubrious voice to go along with his face.

Both flashed their teeth at the same time in identical wide grins, but they weren't _nice_ smiles. These were smiles which gave children partularly frigthening dreams of toothy monsters lurking in closets or underneath beds. Nasty nightmare beings which skittered along wooden floors from rug to rug, using them as cover while they drew closer to their prey...

Edward was an adult but it made him shiver with the bolt of fear which suddenly ran through him because the motion looked highly uncomfortable for the Doctors Faust, as if they weren't used to smiling quite so broadly. Almost as if they were nearly, but not just quite human.

"We have to talk," said the fat Dr. Faust and he narrowed his eyes, which was a tough task for although the folds of fat around them were willing, but the eyes didn't want to play along.

"About what?" Edward ventured in a small voice which died away when he swallowed hard and shrank back against his pillow at the annoyed gleam that flashed in their eyes. THey apparently didn't like to be interrupted by patients.

"About your guilt," came the answer from both of them at once. "It has to come out before it eats you alive."

_Time and time and time again,_

_I wake up screaming and I wake up dead._

_Time and time and time again,_

_Wake up sweating and out of my head._

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Edward thought he'd only blinked, but maybe he'd blacked out. He opened his eyes and found himself in another white room, and he could see at once this one was different. He was naked and lay upon a stone table so cold he felt stuck to it. Only his head could move and he swung it back and forth to take in his new surroundings. This room had no windows and it was mostly bare of furnishings, except for a lamp on a tall pole at the foot of the table and against a far wall, two smaller tables draped with stained white cloths. Each table was supported by a thin wooden pedestal which in turn was held up by four bent wooden legs which ended not in wheels but human-shaped feet. Lumps underneath the cloths caused Edward to suspect they were instrument trays.

This was an operating room.

Feeling bored, he made a closer inspection of the table he lay upon because it didn't look quite like the usual piece of operating room equipment. This wasn't covered with sheets and a thin mattress, but was entirely bare and had deep grooves carved into it near the edges. Plus his head wasn't supported by a pillow, but instead with something hard and unyielding, like a wooden block. He looked down at the end of the table and eyed a hole between his feet with suspicion. Something was wrong here, very very wrong.

A memory came unbidden to his mind. During one of his many hospitalizations, an orderly pushed him in a creaking wooden wheelchair to the solarium to get some sun. But the orderly was new at the University hospital, he became lost in the maze of corridors and they somehow ended up in the basement of the vast building. While searching for someone to give them directions, they'd passed the open door of one room and saw inside row after row of sheet draped bodies lying on tables. Both Edward and the orderly were staring in shock when an amused looking mortuary student walked up. The orderly asked for the directions, and the student informed them that was not the solarium, but the morgue. "You're not going to get muich sun here boy," he'd replied with what he probably thought was a dry chuckle, but Edward considered it rather creepy. He was bothered enough not to be rude to the man because he just wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible.

This was an operating room, but he laid upon an autopsy table.

The instant that thought crossed Edward's mind, straps suddenly came from over the sides of the table, across his legs, arms and shoulders. THey tightened and held him fast, he cried out once in alarm and thrashed against his new bonds, but as the way of nightmares, he couldn't shift them.

Then the Doctors Faust were there, one on either side as before. "Now, now," chided the fat Doctor. "Can't have you running away before we operate, now can we?" He chuckled once before both Fausts burst into laughter, a disturbing black sound which reinforced Edward's opinion the Fausts were only pretending to be human and rapidly getting bored with the whole business too.

The thin Dr. Faust turned his head and whistled in the direction of the two cloth-draped tables and to Edward's complete horror, they came running in response. One stopped next to the thin brother while the other went around the stone table to the fat brother. The feet of each hit the floor in a manner which parodied the innocent patter of children's feet and it seemed even inatimate objects weren't normal at the Faust Clinic.

The doctors Faust each put a hand upon the cloth, absentminded pats to which the tables responded with unnerving little titters, like the chatter of alien birds and they uttered tiny little shrieks like shattering glass when the cloths were suddenly yanked off and Edward moaned aloud with fear when he saw the inistruments.

They weren't the sterile and shiny chrome instruments lined up into a neat rows he'd been expecting. Instead, this was a jumbled pile of the most wickedly sharp tools of torture Edward had ever seen: gigantic scissors, scalpels with curving serrated blades, strangely twisted probes, forceps big enough to encircle a person's skull. These instruments also appeared to be alive for they shifted against each other with clanking sounds and whispered in cold metal voices like mosquito hums. As Edward watched, a scissor pounced upon a probe that writhed like a blind worm and began to hack it into pieces while it screamed with a shrill sound that drilled straight into his brain.

These instruments weren't clean, either. They were either reddened with rust or blackened with mold, sometimes both. All were spotted with flaking brown patches which resembled dried blood. Not that the Doctors Faust seemed bothered by a little insterility because each reached into the squiriming mass which attacked their hands before they pulled out two scalpels apiece.

"Let us begin," they intoned as one, bent over Edward's midsection and began to cut, humming as if they were contented bees making honey. The skin lept apart as the scalpels cut, hissing like two angry tomcats circling and spoiling for a fight. Edward could see a glaring eye on the side of each scalpel, and when one noticed him watching and it _chuckled_ with a voice like sandpaper.

For all his fear, Edward noticed he wasn't bleeding nor was he in pain, but just when he began to relax a little a new sound, a keening noise like mourning women was heard coming from inside the cavity the doctors were opening in his abdomen. 'There it is!" shouted the thin Dr. Faust. "Grab it before it notices! Don't let it get away!"

They tossed the scalpels over their shoulders and reached down into Edward, they tugged hard while uttering piglike grunts of effort,and then with one final jerk pulled out something so horrid Edward nearly fainted from the shock. It _looked_ vaguely human, but that was the only normal thing about it. It had eight limbs which ended in sharp claws, and a circular mouth edged with long fangs, this monster was black in color when it emerged, but began to rapidly turn pale after exposure to the air. A thick shiny liquid dripped off its body which was studded with what appeared to be numerous tumors, they resolved into faces that screamed silently, dissolved back into the body, and then reformed on another part.

All were people he knew.

Some he hated: the Sins, Dante, Frank Archer, Basque Gran, Shou Tucker, Number 66, Majahal, Mugear, Lieutenant Yoki.

Some he cared about: Nina Tucker, Maes Hughes and his family, Mustang's subordinates, Psiren, the coal miners of Youswell, his friends back in Risembool.

Some he loved: his mother and father, Winry, Izumi & Sig,Granny Pinako - and - ALPHONSE.

"This is your guilt, Edward, it's been dining on you for a very long time, ever since your mother died." the fat doctor explained. "You can't move forward until your guilt is expunged and this is the only way to do it." Each doctor grabbed one of the gigantic scissors off the instrument tray and they whooped with high-pitched sounds of glee, Edward imagined he heard one yell "Yahoo!" before they cut into the guilt-monster. The heads went crazy, shaking madly, dissolving and reforming faster and faster until the guilt was cut cleanly into two halves.

"And now, time for us to dine," said the thin doctor. "Have I told you how much I love eating a good serving of guilt?" The man was already drooling in thick white gobbets which rolled down his chin. Without another word, he bit into his half of the guilt, tearing off large chunks which he barely chewed before he swallowed them. Edward watched in horrified fascination as the Doctors Faust ate in savage haste, small bits of meat and what he supposed was the creature's blood flew all about. Those which landed on the instrument trays were viciously fought over by the remaining scissors, scalpels, probes and forceps with much discordant screeching.

This was all too much for him and he passed out again.

_Time and time and time again,_

_I'm waking up shaking and waking in fright._

_Time and time and time again._

_Same B-movie in black and white._

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

He woke up back in his bed in the white room. Night had fallen and a pale gibbous moon lit up the room almost as bright as day, highlighting the tattered remnents of the net curtains around the bed. Edward frowned and narrowed his eyes. _What is going on here?_ He sat up in bed and the mattress creaked and sent up a strong musty smell as if in protest. He looked over at the window and the curtains were gone, the glass broken, as he watched one shard came loose and fell upon the floor with a loud shattering noise. He jumped reflexively, then looked to his right and received another shock. The table was covered with a thick coat of dust, the carafe empty of water, the drinking glass was broken and the quinine pills in the bottle were spotted with black mold.

Edward moved to get out of bed and in doing so noticed he was still dressed. He took one step, tripped over his suitcase and fell,sprawling inelegently on the floor where he came face to face with what was left of Desiree. She was a skeleton now, barely covered with rotting bits of once white cloth, the pin back of her name tag incongruously looped over one lower rib. A small round hole with cracks running off the edges like a spiders web neatly decorated her skull right above her left eye socket. She lay huddled in the center of the room, a few feet away from another window, her spine twisted as if she'd been shot through the glass, then fallen to land partly on her side. The window was mostly bare of glass, but a piece which remained bore a matching hole. Something screamed in the grounds outside like a dying animal and it spurred Edward to leave the room.

He found himself at the end of a long hall lined with mostly closed doors, he could hear the wind moaning and sobbing underneath them, like people in torment and he was suddenly too afraid to move until a shuddering crash made him leap fully an inch into the air. But it got him to move forward softly and cautiously because the corridor was littlered with bits of fallen plaster which crunched like bones when he stepped on them. Halfway along the hall was a pair of metal double doors which swung slightly in the wind, Edward peered curiously in and he wished he hadn't because there on the floor, lying on either side of the operating/autopsy table were the mummified corpses of the Doctors Faust. Their clothes were just tattered shreds and their mouths were open in silent screams. The once blindingly white walls were blackened now, the lamp pole was broken in half andthe instrument tables lay on their sides,their running days over. They were strangely charred, and the entire room had a strong smell of old ashes to it.

Gorge rose threateningly in his throat at the thought he'd been operated on by dead men, by ghosts and he backed out of the room, before he turned and raced up the corridor. Edward stumbled down a short flight of stairs to a small landing and turned right where he confronted a wide sweeping staircase. Once it had been beautiful and covered with a thick carpet, but now that was worn down to almost nothing and the bare wood of the stairs showed through like bones through a thick layer of dust.

_Bones._

The parts of the Faust Clinic he'd seen were reduced to bones, and he didn't particularly want to see the rest, so he descended the stairs was fast as he dared while they creaked ominously beneath his feet as if ready to give way at any time. The grand double doors were open and mostly off their hinges, the stained glass shattered into pieces, the bits on the floor winked in the moonlight like eyes. He didn't see the remains of the Gluttony-butler but assumed they also lay in the house. He looked to his left, there was the parlor where his nightmare had taken its first terrifying turn. No voices whispered "Murderer" this time, but a fresh bolt of fear shot through him again when a single piano note sounded loudly out of tune. Edward wasted no time in sidling out a gap in the doorway, then he was outside in the warm night air.

The dolphin decorated fountain was in ruins, the once water spouting fish lay in the bottom, broken into large pieces of stone. His heart in his throat,Edward cautiously skirted the basin but Envy didn't appear,and headed up the driveway still laid with crushed oyster shell. It shone brighter because most of the trees which once shaded it were down now, blown down by storms. The ones still standing were dead and they creaked, leafless in the wind. The drive was much shorter than he remembered and he was to the gate before he knew it. The gate was also mostly down, but held up by one last desperate hinge, the rusty metal groaned like it was dying. He walked around it, but just before he stepped onto the road, Edward spun around and looked back once last time at the Faust Clinic.

The place looked like it had been the scene of a battle, the once white paint was mutilated by dark scorch marks and large holes. Most of the roof on one wing was entirely gone, the chimneys all collapsed, shutters either hung askew or were gone entirely, and all the window glass was broken out. It exuded an air of deep and abiding sorrow, as if something once promising and beautiful was gone forever. Edward shivered, but not with malaria. Indeed, he felt fine, better than he had felt in a long time, strong even. His earlier weakness had vanished completely.

A train whistle sounded in the distance and it reminded Edward he still had a long way to go on his journey. He squared his shoulders, set his jaw and started back towards town at a quick walk. Neither Mariebelle, the faceless band nor the town appeared to him again.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

"Wake up, brother."

Edward's eyes snapped open and he slowly sat up in bed when his arm was tugged on. Alphonse put one hand underneath Edward's left elbow and he stood up before he was steered into the bathroom. There Alphonse took off Edward's pajama shirt before he wet a washcloth in warm water he'd already filled the sink with and washed his face, arms, chest and back. While he worked, Alphonse softly hummed a tune, a half-remembered lullaby their mother had sung to them when they were little.

Then Alphonse steered Edward back into the bedroom where he dressed him in clean clothes. Edward sat unmoving and unseeing in a chair while his hair was brushed and gathered up into a high ponytail. Alphonse held a hand mirror up to Edward's face and said in a bright voice, "You're looking very nice today, Brother." But Edward's only movment was a brief twitching of his left cheek and Alphonse sighed in resignation. He shook another pill from the bottle, broke it in half and stowed one half in his pants pocket, the other he set between Edward's lips and then gently tipped a water glass against his teeth until he drank. Alphonse stroked Edward's throat with an index finger until he saw his swallow reflex, then he took his elbow again and got him seated at the table. He took the cover off a china plate containing a steaming mass of scrambled eggs accompanied by fat brown sausages, put a fork into Edward's left hand and urged gently,"Eat your breakfast, Brother."

He turned away to take the Rocketeer's breakfast to him and therefore he didn't see the single tear which erupted from the tear dcut in Edward's right eye and rolled slowly down his face. Edward put food in his mouth, chewed and swallowed automatically so he never noticed it himself.

On the outside.

On the inside.

_Siomeone, somewhere..._

Deep in Edward's subconscious, the Id and the Ego looked nervously upward at the loud booming noises which came from all about them. A deep crack in the ice began at the shoreline of the pond and rippled all the way across, sending ripples of smaller cracks off to the side. The snow stopped falling and the layer already on the ground began to melt. The clouds shrouding the sky were thinning and the unseen sun struggled to break through.

When Alphonse returned to Edward's room, he uncovered his own breakfast, picked up his fork and then looked over at his brother before he began to eat.

He dropped the fork.

Edward was still eating like an automaton, but his face was covered with tears which rolled down his face and dripped onto his breakfast. The something which gripped Alphonse's heart for the past month loosened its hold and under a sudden impulse, he got up and went around the table to hug his brother and kiss his forehead. He could hardly wait to tell Rose Edward seemed to be coming out of this terrible walking coma.

_WAKE ME UP!_


	70. We Have Met The Enemy

**The Waters of Lethe**

**disclaimer:** I don't own FMA, I just like to play around in its world and torture Ed for awhile

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** One month has passed since the Thule Society invaded the alchemic world and the invaders have advanced from their base of Lior to occupy the nearest towns. Their next targets are New Optain and East City.

**Warnings:**violence, death and bad language, maybe sex

**Beta: **Took-baggins

_70. We Have Met The Enemy..._ (Wir haben die Enemy...)

Lieutenant-Colonel Riza Hawkeye blew a soft sigh before she raised the binoculars up to her eyes and sighted in on the town of New Optain five miles distant. It came in all blurry and her fingers reached over to adjust the focus wheel until it sprang into a sharp definition. Streams of the citys former residents flowed like rivers of humanity from several exits, driving cars and trucks, riding on horseback or in carts, and even walking. The arms of everyone except the very young and the very old were full of their most precious possessions bundled into suitcases or cloth bags, Behind them, the suburbs on the other side of New Optain, closer to Lior were already on fire, great columns of black smoke reaching into the clear blue sky.

The occasional explosion could be heard as bits of buildings flew high into the air, and then seconds later was felt as a shock wave of sound; each one startling the streams of refugees, the somewhat neat lines wavering in brief bursts of absolute panic before people resumed their west ward or southward flights. The first few groups who were lucky enough to own cars and even lucker to have enough gas to run them rumbled by the forward lines of the Armed Forces of Amestris. Said automobile occupants looked out the windows at Riza and her unit with faces alternately frightened, resigned, defiant or angry.

Riza was standing on the fender of a military truck, her midsection pressed against its still-warm engine and elbows propped up on the hood to support the binoculars. So far, the enemy was still advancing through the northeastern suburbs of New Optain, they hadn't met any resistance so she didn't understand why they insisted on blowing up people's homes, unless it was to sow so much panic, people would be afraid to fight back. Which wasn't a good idea if the intelligence reports from the varied reconnasance teams were accurate. Best to leave any resisting to the military who were trained and equipped to do so.

It was her job to keep the invaders from coming any closer to East City, although right now she was mostly working on gathering and collating the reams of information coming in about them. Riza sighed again and put the binoculars down, letting the heavy instrument dangle from a thin leather strap which cut into the back of her sweaty neck. It was almost like Ishbal, except this time the Amestrians were on the defensive.

"Lieutenant-Colonel, Ma'am!" She turned sharply to see Captain Kain Feury judder to a stop a foot away and snap an impressive salute, his eyes wide and excited behind his large glasses. Only one or two things would get Feury's attention like that - either he'd managed to find the radio frequency the invaders were using, or one of the recon officers was back with some hot poop - important news in military jargon.

"Who is it, Kain?" Riza was long past the days of bringing military spit 'n polish with her into the field, she saved that for Central Headquarters. But she returned Kain's salute sharply.

"Major Smiley is back from his recon in Lior, Ma'am and he's waiting in your tent to be debriefed."

"At ease, Kain. I'll be right there." She jumped down off the truck fender and started for her tent, but stopped when Kain held out a canteen to her with a solemn half bow.

"You look thirsty, Ma'am." He pushed the canteen closer and Riza took it with a smile and a soft 'thank you' because she really _was_ thirsty, her mouth felt lined with cotton all the way down to her stomach. She wished she could take the canteen and just dump it over her head because the heat, so close to the Great Eastern Desert just sucked all the moisture right out of her skin. But Riza resisted the urge and instead took a long pull of water after removing the canteens stopper, paused to take a breath, then another long pull.

She handed the nearly empty canteen back to Feury. "Thanks Captain, but I have one favor to ask." After Kain's eyebrows shot up in an endearing 'ANYTHING!' move, she continued "Stop calling me Ma'am, just 'Hawkeye' is fine, ok?"

"OK, Riza, um - Ma'am, - um-er, that is..." Feury's face turned brick red as he saluted once, paused, and saluted again before he passed the canteen to his right hand and saluted again with his left hand. "Un - Hawkeye, I mean."

Riza just patted his shoulder before she walked briskly to her tent, her hands reaching up to adjust the clip holding her hair up and off her neck. She was still at it when she ducked slightly to enter the tent to see a tall dark-haired man dressed in civilian clothes, hands clasped behind his back. He paced impatiently like a caged tiger, back and forth behind a low table upon which an olive drab rucksack rested. To his credit, he noticed Riza immediately and snapped promptly to attention, back straight, chin up and gave her a perfectly crisp salute.

"Lieutenant-Colonel Hawkeye! Major James Smiley reporting as ordered- SIR!" His perfect military stance faltered for just a moment as he added weakly, "Er, MA'AM!"

Riza fought back the urge to laugh and instead returned his salute, her features composed into the classic military issue poker facee. Only a slight twitch on one side of her mouth betrayed her amusement "At ease, Major. 'Sir' is fine"

"Thank you, sir." Major Smiley relaxed - only a little - to take his "at ease" stance, legs apart and hands behind his back.

Riza took the opportunity to sit down on a folding canvas chair and she gestured for the Major to do the same. He followed her suggestion with evident relief. He probably hadn't had a chance to truly relax since he'd begun this mission. "Report, Major!"

"SIR!" Smiley barked before he remembered he didn't have to and he softened his tone. "I entered Lior through one of the eastern tunnels at twenty-three hundred hours last Tueday night, reconnoitered the positions of the invaders, their weaponry and their troop strength for twelve days and left the city by a different tunnel at seventeen-hundred hours last evening. I rendezvoused with the Ishbalan Defense Force about eight kilometers outside the city of Lior and they helped me reach New Optain just prior to dawn via a circitous route to avoid invader patrols."

"So you got here not long before they did." Riza crossed her right leg over her left knee and relaxed further into the canvas sling back, but not too far. These chairs had an embarassing habit of falling backwards and tipping startled occupants on to the tent floor.

"It's kind of mortifying, really." Smiley grinned ruefully and rubbed the back of his head. "It was past curfew when I left Lior and I was wondering how it was I made my escape so easily. If I'd stayed a few hours more, I would have witnessed the invaders mustering to march upon New Optain!"

Riza waved a consoling hand, "Not to worry, you got the intel we needed and by the size of your rucksack, it seems there is a lot to see."

"Yes, sir!" Smiley unclasped the rucksack's main compartment. "The invaders seem to be a spick-and-span lot, but there are a few careless ones and I was able to get close to sensitive areas, or the Holy Mother had placed people in position to gather nuggets of information. Her most important placement is a boy she supplied to the invaders to take care of two high-level prisoners."

Smiley continued talking while he brought file after file out of the rucksack, Riza could see they were the buff colored folders the military used, with a stencil of the official state seal: figures of a miner and a farmer over a back ground of an alchemy array, the latter surmounted by the word "FORWARD". There were twelve of them, one for each day Smiley'd been there and Riza knew she'd be burning the midnight oil reading them and digesting the contents so she could brief the HQ brass who were either too impatient to read them, or not smart enough to interpret what they read. Possibly both. But then Smiley brought out another stack of folders, also buff colored, but decorated with a strange black cross. The words **ACHTUNG!**(Attention!) and **RESERVAT**(Classified) were stamped in thick red letters above and below the cross.

He smiled at Riza's confusion. "I said a few of the invaders were rather careless and the Holy Mother's people ah - 'liberated' a few files, or copied the ones they couldn't make off with. Don't worry about the language, a translation of each file was typed up and included." He finished emptying out the rucksacks main compartment and opened a smaller compartment which also bulged.

"Oh, and we can stop referring to them as 'invaders'. They call themselves 'Germans'. This will sound rather odd, but they apparently have come here from a parallel Earth on the other side of the Gate."

Riza was still digesting the news about the translations and this next revelation threw her for a loop. She wasn't an alchemist herself, but her father had been a noted practitioner of the art. Her early life was alchemy this, alchemy that, alchemy for breakfast, lunch and dinner. He'd been very private about his own research, though and if he'd investigated the theory of parellel worlds, she didn't recall him talking about it. She would need to consult with the senior State Alchemists for more background on this after she returned to East City.

"Sir?" Riza came back to the present to see Smiley holding out an oilskin wrapped packet to her. She shook her head to get her mind back on the here and now before she took the packet and untied the cord around it. "Photographs, ma'am-um-sir of the 'German's' positions and weaponry mostly, plus some of their key people, taken with my buttonhole camera."

He sounded rather pleased with himself and he should be because Smiley had done a very thorough job. All the photographs were clean and sharp and the weapons were taken from multiple angles to show approximate size. The strategy eggheads in Central would be over the moon with delight. Riza flipped over a few more photographs of random guns(she wouldn't mind owning one of those rifles) and tanks (twice as large as the militarys own) and came to the photograph of a woman. She wasn't bad looking, with short cut blonde hair and Riza guessed, blue eyes. But she was dressed in the most outlandish clothes, the black and white film muted the effect but they must be something to see in person.

It was a darkish color, doubled-breasted suit with shoulder pads of a size Riza had never seen before except on the vainest officers in the days of the old Amestrian Republic one hundred years ago. She'd seen the photographs on the walls of the academy and used to laugh at these long-dead soldiers, but now she was seeing such clothing excess in the present. It was decorated with pale buttons, probably gold-colored and piping of the same shade on the suit's high collar. Riza flipped the photograph over and neatly printed on the lower edge was a name: 'Dietlinde Eckart, leader of the Thule Society'.

"What is this 'Thule Society', Major?"

Smiley picked up on of the Amestrian folders, opened and scanned it before he answered, "This Thule Society is apparently a secret group within the German military who claim their aim is bringing back the 'wisdom of the ancients', um -" he turned a page. "One of my contacts says most of the Society members are also known as 'Nazis', who have this peculiar belief they are descendents of a so-called master race caled 'Aryans'."

Riza snorted derisively, flipped the photograph back and shifted it to the bottonm of the pile before she looked at the next photograph: 'Rudolph Hess'. She kept going. 'Dr. Josef Mengele', 'Hermann Goering', 'Josef Goebbels', 'Klaus Haushoffer'. 'Alfons Heidrech'. She stopped and studied this photograph more closely, Heidreich looked very young, almost like a teenager, with blond hair and obviously blue eyes. But he was the only person, exepting Haushoffer, not in a uniform of some sort. Instead he wore civilian clothes of dark pants and suspenders and light colored shirt. Plus, he was the only one who was handcuffed. She gave Smiley a questioning look.

The spy peered over his long nose at the photograph, "Ah, yes. He is one of the Germans, but not an invader. Mr. Heidreich is often referred to as The Rocketeer and seems to be the inventor of the rocket planes the Germans used to cross the portal. Not even the Holy Mother's spies were privy to the exact circumstances, but there was some sort of disagreement and he was brought here against his will. If we could get him out of Lior and interview him, I'm hoping he would spill some important information which will be to our advantage."

Riza nodded and put the Rocketeer's photograph to the bottom of the pile - and stopped - hand in the air and staring,suddenly unable to take a deep breath. That long blond hair in a pony tail, those eerie eyes like the purest gold, there was no mistaking who he was.

Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist.

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Smiley's voice came to Riza as if from far away. Sir? Sir?! SIR!!"

She returned to her surroundings with an unpleasant jolt because Major Smiley was shaking her shoulders, and none too gently either.

"Sir? Is something wrong?"

Riza flipped the photograph over so he could see the image. "Major, do you know who this man is?"

He shook his head and Riza smiled bitterly. People's memories were so short. "He is Edward Elric, also known as the Fullmetal. He disappeared about the same time Mustang's Rebellion broke out. Once things started to calm down, the Investigations Department scoured the length and breadth of Amestris, but no trace of him was ever found."

Smiley sucked in a quick breath of astonishment. "I am sorry sir, I did not recognize him, but I never knew him personally. I just saw him once or twice around Headquarters, although I heard him yelling often enough." He finished with a wry twitch of his lips. "As well as all the wild stories about his amazing feats of insubordination."

Riza smiled back as if basking in the memory of a small boy in a red coat shouting profanities at Mustang who would lean back,smiling in his chair at the storm of fury he'd just unleashed. Edward knew words no child his age should be exposed to, much less speak. She often wondered why Colonel Mustang never lost it and put the boy over his knee or washed his mouth out with soap.

"You knew him well, sir?"

"Yes, I did Major Smiley, and he was quite a brat."

"I'd always heard he was a wee little fellow, maybe that is why I didn't recognize him right off. He's grown a bit in six years."

Riza turned the photos face back and she scanned it closely. Edward vanished not long after his sixteenth birthday so he would be twenty-two now. He was definately longer in the legs and torso, his hair grown enough to be caught back in a ponytail that swept past his shoulders. But his face and eyes, his features once so alive looked strangely _blank_, like slates wiped clean. "What is wrong with him, Major? He looks like he's in a trance."

"He is the prisoner the Germans call 'The Puppet' because he is kept in that state by use of a drug code-named 'Puppetmaster'. See the boy next to him? He is Alphonse Rockbell, assigned by the Holy Mother to look after him."

Riza narrowed her eyes and studied the boy: long hair in a ponytail, but darker than Edward's, the eyes were also darker, but they, plus the nose and mouth were of such a similar shape she was surprised the Germans hadn't noticed the resemblence.

_Rockbell my left eye!_

He was Alphonse Elric, Edward's younger brother.

So that is what he really looked like and Riza thought Alphonse was a handsome boy. Edward often mentioned his promise to return Alphonse to his real body and he'd obviously kept that promise. Maybe that was the reason for his disappearance. In return for Alphonse's restoration, the Gate flung him into the other world.

She flipped the photograph back towards Major Smiley. "Do you know who this boy is?"

"All I know is what the Holy Mother called him, Alphonse Rockbell."

"She lied." He is Alphonse Elric, the Fullmetal's brother. If you saw Edward, you saw Alphonse right behind him, but he was in an eight foot tall suit of armor then."

"Aye," Smiley scratched his head, "I remember always wondering why he wore that armor, it was such a queer thing for a boy to do."

Riza knew she could never tell Smiley the truth, that Alphonse was just a soul bound to that armor. Because that would require her to spill the Elric's darkest secret, their attempt to perform one of two forbidden alchemy rituals: human transmutation. The ancient law mandating the death penalty for offenders was still on the books and this crime didn't have a staute of limitations.

"Alphonse had his - ah - _habits_, Major." The corners of Riza's lips curled when she said it and the Major looked confused as if not understanding what she meant.

But any further explantation would have to wait when the camp siren sounded so loudly both of them jumped and running footsteps were heard outside her tent. "Lieutenant-Colonel, Sir!"

"Enter!"

Captain Feury entered, saluted and snapped out his report. "Sir! The balloon watch has reported the approach of the invader's planes from the eastern flank! Sir!" He saluted again, and Riza returned it before she rapped out her ordes.

"Call battle alert, Feury! Make sure the howitzer crews are ready! Dismissed!" Feury saluted again before he spun on one heel and raced away. Riza quickly re-wrapped the stack of photographs in the oilskin and retied it while Smiley hastily shoved all the files back into the rucksack. The photos went back into their compartment which Smiley secured before he stood up, throwing the straps over one shoulder.

"Get back to Central as fast as you can with this, Major." She returned his salute before both left the tent, she turned left and he went right. The droning sound of the jet plane engines could be heard approaching fast, they must have looped around New Optain in an attempt to launch a surprise attack. Almost as soon as the thought crossed her mind, the howitzers opened up, shaking the ground as they roared defiance. The blasts were answered with a burst of machine gun fire from one plane that shredded the observation balloon into tattered grey cloth. The other sent small geysers of ground flying around the howitzers and Riza saw men fall.

_OH! NO!_ Riza's first thoughts were for the two men in the balloon, who she was helpless to save. They tried to jump out with their parachutes, but the collapsing balloon came down too fast as the basket plunged earthwards. But at the same time, Riza saw light and heard a crackling sound just as the ground heaved up and re-formed into two gigantic hands with cupped palms facing upwards. They caught the falling basket and stopped its mad fall, then gently lowered it and the two men inside to the ground. Almost immediately after, another burst of alchemic light shot heavenwards and it caught the plane after it came around for a second sweep. Both of the craft's wings suddenly flew off in different directions and it plunged almost straight down. The crash shook the ground like an earthquake and a massive fireball erupted. Riza instinctively shielded her face from the blast of light and heat it released.

The second plane zipped by overhead and she saw it make a wide, lazy turn in the air over New Optain. One of the howitzer crew could be heard shouting "Be ready! It's coming back!" The plane was impossibly fast and it dipped lower as it approached to camp, as if to start another strafing run and Riza ran for cover behind the truck she'd observed the town from only an hour before. But there were no bursts of machine gun fire this time,just a brief unearthly silence before the bomb it dropped exploded next to the howitzers. The truck bounced into the air and seemed to fly apart and Riza was sent flying, something - perhaps a piece of metal struck her head and she landed hard upon her left shoulder. Intense pain flooded her nervous system and she cried out once before she blacked out.

///////////////////////////////////////////////

The pain was still with Riza when she came to, her head felt like it was split open and she couldn't see after her eyelids fluttered open. "Unnhh!" Something was stinging and she closed them again, Even though she couldn't see, Riza could hear fire crackling, men shouting, the thump of boots on the ground and vehicle engines. She winced when she tried to take a deep breath.

"Don't move, sir, you've been badly hurt." Major Smiley's voice held an edge of concern. "We're evacuating you and the rest of the wounded back to East City."

"I thought I told you to go and get that intel to Central, Major." Riza tried to put some steel into her voice but the effort was too much and she nearly passed out again. She rested a bit and then gritted her teeth. "Major? Just how bad is 'badly hurt'?"

"You were struck on the head, just below the hair line by a piece of that truck. Fortunately, it didn't pierce that hard skull of yours, but you're bleeding quite a bit. That's why you can't see, there is blood in your eyes. A few of your riibs are either cracked or broken, you've probably got a concussion, plus it looks like your left shoulder is dislocated. If your Captain could hold you up into a sitting position, I could pop the joint right back in."

Riza started to nod until she thought better. "Let's do it."

Feury held her up and gave support from behind while Smiley first gave her a piece of cloth to bite down on, and then he put one hand on her loose shoulder joint. "On the count of three Captain," Riza braced herself. "One. Two. THREE!" Both men pushed with all their strength and Riza screamed into the cloth, but she felt the 'pop' of the joint going back into its socket before she went limp again.

//////////////////////////

She woke up in a hospital bed the third time. Riza lay still and and let consciousness gradually flood back. The ward was so quiet compared to the hellish atmosphere of the camp had in the aftermath of the attack. The silence was shocking and almost hurt her ears. Any pain she might feel was just a dull ache in the background, Riza looked to her left and saw an intravenous tube stuck in her hand, morphine most likely to judge by how 'floaty' she felt. Rixa could also feel something was wrapped tightly around her head and her midsection, plus her right leg seemed to be restrained. She shifted the leg to the left and the pressure eased, then sheets rustled and the pressure returned. Riza moved the leg back an inch and she heard a soft growl in response.

She dared to raise her head and found herself looking at two deep brown eyes set in a furry black and white face. "Hayate!" The dog responded to his name by lolling his tongue out in a big canine smile. He shuffled forward closer to her face and whined before that tongue shot out and licked her chin. She pulled her right hand back and out from beneath the covers to stroke the soft fur between his ears. "Hayate" she said again, but more gently. The bed shook slightly as his tail thumped it.

"Hayate missed you so I brought him along from Central. Major Smiley helped me pull rank to get him past the nurses. Those military types are really strict about pets in the hospital y'know."

She never thought she'd hear that voice again and her breath caught after she looked right and saw blue uniform through a mist of tears prickling her eyes. Riza moved her right hand up to grasp the white - gloved hand when it began to brush those tears away.

"Sir."

**Author's note:** Major James Smiley's name is a cross between two of the best known literary spies: James Bond and George Smiley (Tinker,Tailor,Soldier,Spy, et al). If I had wanted to, I could have given him a couple middle names to possibly shoehorn in "Bulldog" Drummond and Folly of the Yard. (sorry,inside joke).


	71. The Lights Are Going Out

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA, I just like to play around in its world and torture Ed for a while.

**Author's note:** Assume another month has passed and the Thulists have consolidated their hold upon Lior. Now they are expanding their territory, first by taking over the towns closest to Lior and then the city of New Optain. Their conquest of the eastern sector of Amestris is almost complete, except for the biggest prize, the provincial capitol of East City.

**Warnings:** violence, death, bad language, worse German and maybe sex

**Beta: **Took-baggins

**Another author's note:** This chapter is dedicated to the memory of FMA and Naruto hentai fanfic author extraordinate Serenanna. Rest in peace.

_Chapter 71_: _The Lights Are Going Out_ (Die Lichter gehen)

The battle for East City started with a bang. About six in the morning, a group of six German jet planes swooped in from out of the rising sun over the suburbs. After one pass over the city, they made a wide turn and commenced a bombing and strafing run. The streets were crowded with people going to work or waiting for busses or trains, and they were helpless targets. Wthin five minutes, bodies were scattered everywhere, and the citizenry was in an an uproar. The raid was over after twenty minutes of terror and confusion, the enemy planes flying back the way they'd come.

Save the rumbling of shattered buildings falling, the roars of many fires breaking out and the screams of panicked citizens, a sickly silence fell over East City.

General Hakuro was in over his head, not that he'd admit it. He sat motionless at his desk and hyperventilated while the phones on his desk rang and rang. Outside in the hall were the sounds of running footsteps and yelling soldiers, although it seemed to come from far away. In Hakuro's defense, his lack of action wasn't entirely his fault, he'd been watching new recruits marching on the parade ground from his office windwo when the raid began. So he had a front row seat to men and women either gunned down or blown into bloody bits.

When the window was blown in by a bombs shockwave, he'd been knocked clear across the room. Stunned and with the wind knocked out of him, he'd just lain there for a few minutes before he got up and returned to his desk. The heavy piece of furniture was studded with shards of glass from the window and the force of the blast had moved it two or three feet, but it managed to stay upright. He picked up the rolling swivel chair, set it back on its legs and picked glass out of the padded leather seat before he sat down again.

There he stayed, frozen with shock as blood trickled from his punctured eardrums until his adjutant discovered him. When the General refused to reply, or even acknowledge the man's presence, the adjutant took over to answer the phones and take damage reports from all the city sectors. When the captain of the day watch came to find out why Hakuro wasn't issuing orders, the adjutant gladly ceded control to him. He put one hand underneath Haukuro's left elbow and tugged until the General looked up.

"You're hurt, sir. Come with me to the infirmary," he mouthed slowly so Hakuro could read his lips. Grateful someone was takinig him away from the sounds of screaming and sirens, the General smiled and nodded before he stood up and allowed himself to be steered out of his office.

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Lieutenant-General Raven was not a happy camper. A tall, broad man with dark hair and beard shot through with grey, he clasped his fingers together and leaned back in his chair, his grey eyes narrowed. First he glared at the two inch high stack of reports on his desk, before he turned his rapier sharp gaze on some nervous junior officers.

"These Germans are very efficient at making war. Their main strikes were on vital city infrastructure - East Headquarters, the main railroad station, bridges, communications towers and major roads. The slaughter of innocent civilians were just icing on their cake." He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers, "This attack was carefully planned to damage vital city services and sow the most amount of terror in a short time. They succeeded admirably."

The junior officers knew better than to interrupt Raven and they kept their mouths shut, although a few did gulp audibly.

"The question is, how do we stop them?"

"Uh, sir?" A recently minted captain raised his hand. "An alchemist succeeded in bringing one of their planes down at New Optain, and -"

"AND WHAT!?" The furious Raven roared at a volume that could have broken plate glass. "That was just luck, the alchemist's timing was perfect. To make the situation worse, there wasn't much left of the plane for our tame geeks to analyze. We need a weapon which can match the speed of those things, otherwise we are just sitting ducks like those recruits on the parade ground at East Headquarters. Poor bastards never had a chance."

The chastened captain stared at his feet and wished he could sink through the floor, but he looked up when Raven growled "The answer isn't down there, you idiot."

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Alphonse ducked his head in a vain attempt to shield his face from the dust blowing into it as the staff car raced along the twisting suburban streets of East City. All around him was the damage wrought by the early morning German raid: crashed automobiles, ruined houses (most of them in flames) and the blood soaked bodies of those who'd been killed by either bullets or bomb shrapnel. The car suddenly swerved to avoid a bomb crater and Alphonse's right elbow banged painfully against a door. But the car couldn't avoid the obstacle completely anda tire caught the edge of the crater. The car jounced hard and Alphonse flew a few inches off the seat before he banged his head against Edward's.

Colorful stars danced in front of his eyes and he muttered several curse words under his breath while holding his aching skull with both hands. On the seat directly oppsite, Alfons Heidreich held the edge of the leather seat in a death grip, his teeth clenched and his face unnaturally pale. The speed at which the car hurtled along was bad enough, but the shaking was giving him motion sickness. Alfons swallowed hard and fought back the urge to vomit but he couldn't take much more of this. At least he hadn't eaten breakfast yet, so he wouldn't have much to lose if he tossed his cookies now.

Alphonse had woken him up before dawn and told him he had to get dressed because they were being moved. The streets outside were alive with the rumbling of trucks and tanks and activity only increased in volume as the sun peeped over the eastern horizon. He'd spashed water on his face and jammed blueprints into two large leather cylinders, suffering several paper cuts in his haste. Alphonse left the connecting door open and when he saw his caretaker dresssing the Puppet, Heidreich called out in English "What is the hurry Alphonse?"

Barely had the words left his mouth when the door to his room burst open to reveal Sergeant Braun and two grim-faced soldiers holding rifles. "Mach schnell!" **[Make speed!]** the big man shouted before he grabbed Alfon's left wrist and clicked a handcuff closed around it.

"Hey!" Alfons yelled in angry surprise before his other wrist was also cuffed. Braun always made the cuffs too tight, he would have furrows dug into the flesh by the time they were finaly removed. The two soldiers grabbed Alfons by each arm and hustled him out of the room at a swift jog. "My blueprints!" he twisted his neck and tried to look back.

"I have them, Rocketeer, don't you worry! Just get moving!" the Sergeant ordered, so Alfons concentrated on keeping up with his escorts without his feet getting tangled up.

He was practically tossed head first into the back of an open air staff car and he'd barely gotten himself back upright on his seat before Alphonse entered the vehicle, his hand under the Puppet's left elbow. Sergeant Braun tossed his containers of blueprints and some other bags into the trunnk, slammed it shut and banged a meaty hand on the metal. "GO!" he bellowed at the top of his lungs.

An engine roared and wheels spun until they caught and the car leaped forward so fast both Alphonse and the Puppet were knocked off their feet. Both bounced on their seats and very nearly out of the car altogether. After just a week in New Optain, they were on their way to East City in a hurry.

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"Where is his collar and leash!?" a hard-faced man demanded after the car slewed to a stop in front of a hotel in East Citiys historic district. The man rattled the question so fast in German, Alphonse didn't understand at first and he received a brutal slap which made his ears ring.

"Lieutenant Hess wants the Puppet collared and leashed. They're in this bag, so get them on quickly!" Braun shoved a leather valise into Alphonse's arms.

His left cheek stil burning, Alphonse set it on the car fender, opened it and rummaged around before he found the two pieces of leather. He put the collar around Edward's neck and buckled it with great reluctance, then snapped on the leash. Hess snatched it from Alphonse's hands so fast the skin was reddened. He tugged hard on it.

"Stand up!" Hess ordered and Edward did so, his back bowed slightly from the pressure Hess exerted on the leash. "Come here!" He began to climb out of the car, but Hess was too impatient and yanked even harder, causing Edward to stumble and fall to his knees on the concrete. Without thinking, Alphonse leapt forward and put one hand under Edward's elbow to help him back to his feet. He turned his head and glared at Hess for a heartbeat befjore he remembered he wasn't to look the Thulists right in the eye. He dropped his gaze to the ground and stood very still, his heart hammering.

The fingers of Hess's free hand twitched towards the holstered gun on hsi left hip, as if he was considering shooting the boy for his temerity. Eventually he settled for just snorting. "COME!" he jerked hard on the leash and Edward followed obediently, but Hess suddenly stopped and addressed Braun.

"Sergeant! Have that boy flogged!" Then he turned smartly on his heel and walked away, pulling the Puppet behind him.

////////////////////////////

Half an hour later, Alphonse lay face down and weeping in pain on the tiled floor of an inner courtyard. The Thulists had taken over one of the best hotels in East City, assigning the Rocketeer, the Puppet and their Caretaker to adjoining rooms on the fifth floor. But first, two soldiers dragged Alphonse into this open space, stripped him to the waist and then held him down over a round concrete table. A third soldierr rolled up his sleeves and put all his strength into flogging Alphonse with a leather whip. Sixteen lashes in all, one for each year of his life. He'd bitten his lips and refused to scream until the eighth lash, and he was barely conscious after the twelveth.

He woke up with a cry of pain after a bucket of cold water was thrown against his bleeding back and the flogging continued. _Just four more lashes_, Alphonse thought. _If Brother could handle the pain of automail, I can be brave too_. But it took everything he had to stay conscious and his teeth shredded the tender skin of his lip until it bled, lines of red snaking down his chin and dripping on the tiles.

The soldiers released him and he slumped to the ground before pitching over on one side and finally turning face first. His back burned like fire and the pain was inescapable, taking a deep breath just made him want to scream. So Alphonse tried to breathe shallowly, but the pain persisted, making him exhale in soft moans like a dying animal. Even the slightest movement of air hurt the cuts and he nearly passed out when a breeze struck up. It dried the sweat on his face, but made the pain pulse like white lights behind his closed eyes. Only peripherally was he aware of someone standing next to him. He slowly, very slowly turned his head to his left and opened his eyes. A pair of scuffed brown shoes badly in need of polishing were planted next to his head. Alphonse shifted his gaze upward to see blue eyes staring down out of a mask of horror mixed with pity and concern.

/////////////////////////////

Alfons Heidreich felt sick to his stomach. How could one country nuture people capable of great beauty alongside those capable of such brutality? This was not the rational German mind, instead this was madness at it's most illogical. Sergeant Braun told him the Caretaker was "only" a Shambalan, a sub-human being fit only to serve the Aryan "Master race", but Alfons refused to countenance it. The Caretaker, his _doppelganger_, was his friend. He was fully human, intelligent and kind, with desires and dreams like Heidreich had. Hadn't he learned to speak tolerable German in less than a week? This ability to speak a foreign language that quickly proved the Thulists underestimated him.

Alphonse Rockbell didn't deserve to be treated like this.

"Can you stand up?" Alphonse groaned at the thought of moving. But he cautiously nodded his assent before he raised slowly up to his hands and knees.

Heidreich knelt down and awkwardly put his arms around Alphonse's body, trying not to touch the bloody lash marks. He turned parallel and tried to put Alphonse's left arm over his shoulder, but that proved to be a mistake when the boy uttered a scream which he quickly bit back. "Put it around my waist , Alphonse." Heidreich waved his right hand around for a moment before he settled for just clenching the waistband of Alphonse's pants in his fist. He took one small step forward and stopped, waiting for Alphonse to move. He finally did with a sort of shuffle because bending his knees caused certain muscles in his back to shift, which moved the lash-torn skin and...

It seemed to take forever for the two of them to get from the courtyard to the main hotel lobby. The staff was going about it's business, but frowns and glares radiated from faces stiff with anger and resentment. Heidreich knew they hated him too even if he didn't have a gun,he was an invader and unwanted. But he approached the concierge anyway, a tall dignified man with thick salt and pepper hair and goatee. "Excuse me, please. He needs a doctor badly, could you please contact one?" The man didn't respond for a moment while he scowled at Heidreich, then his head moved in a barely preceptible nod before he spun sharply on one heel and walked away.

A dark haired bellboy wearing glasses and dressed in a smart red jacket and black pants approached with a wheeled chair. Alphonse settled gratefully in it, perching on the front edge because lounging against the back was out of the question. The muscles of Heidreich's right shoulder were going numb and he massaged it with his left hand after he set his burden down. The bellboy mumured "Come this way, sir" as he got behind the chair and pushed it across the marble floored lobby to a door made of graceful curlicues of brass set into a paneled wall. It led to an elevator and the bellboy pushed the outer brass door, and then an inner door of softly glowing wood open. He reclosed the doors after they were inside, and produced a key attached to a long gold chain from one coat pocket and inserted it into a control panel, before he pushed a lever and the elevator began to move.

The trio all faced the doors, none of them speaking or looking at each other while the elevator rose smoothly to the fifth floor. The bellboy pulled the handle back and opened the doors, but allowed Heidrech to exit first before following him with the chair. He apparently had a master key to all the rooms because he produced a large skeleton key of silver colored metal from a pants pocket and inserted it into the keyhole of Room Five-ten. Again he let Heidreich pass first through the door before he wheeled the chair next to the closest bed and supported Alphonse. The boy got slowly out of the chair and crawled forward to lay face-down on the velour coverlet. Heidreich didn't have any money to tip the bellboy so he just nodded and mumbled "thank you very much."

The corners of the bellboy's lips quirked upward briefly before his face resumed its polite mask. He bowed to Heidrech, then whirled the chair around and left the room. "Alphobnse, is there anything I can do?" Alphonse's only answer was a low groan. He could have been saying "No", but he also could have been groaning in pain. Heidreich could fix a broken rocket engine, but he felt so helpless in the face of his friend's agony. Not sure what to do, he entered the bathroom and rummaged through a cabinet underneath the sink, where he found a metal basin. He filled it with hot water, then collected a washcloth and some towels before returning to the main room.

A knock sounded on the door and he called out "Come in" while setting the basin on the bedside table. The door swung open and a middle aged man with unruly black hair, as if he'd just rolled out of bed, entered the room. His hair was shot through with grey and his mouth and eyes were bracketed with deep lines. Even his rumbpled and none too clean clothes looked tired. A scuffed leather case which had seen better days was clutched in his right hand. He nodded as if in approval at Heidreich's preparations.

"Do you speak Amestrian?"

"Ames- oh, you mean English?" Heidreich stammered in his gratitude to the doctor.

"English?"

"That is what the language is called in my world," Heidreich hastened to explain, he felt very awkward in his presence.

"Aren't you with the Thulists? the doctor cocked his head and spoke in a sly voice, Heidreich had the sense the man was pumping him for information, but maybe it was just his imagination. He grinned and ruffled the hair on the back of his head self consciously.

"Um, not exactly. You see, I invented the rockets they used, but I didn't think they'd use them to invade another world. They took me prisoner when I objected. Um -" he hesitated and stuck out his right hand. To his surprise, the man transferred the bag to his left hand before taking hold of Heidreich's and shaking it. "My name is Alfons Heidreich, I'm, uh - very glad you came, my friend is in a lot of pain."

Heidreich didn't know why he was babbling so much, nor even why he was telling a complete stranger these things. Just his nerves, he assumed and decided not to worry about it.

"I can see that," the doctor's voice was wry as if he'd seen it all and nothing fazed him. He bent to inspect the lash marks on Alphonse's back and the lines on his face deepened into tiny ravines. "What the hell? Was he WHIPPED!?"

"Yes, he was."

"For WHAT!? He's just a kid!"

"He gave Lieutenant Hess a very dirty look, because, ah, Hess was treating the Puppet roughly."

The doctor shook his head. "Stupid, stupid, stupid. Well, lets get started on relieving his pain, does the sight of blood bother you? No? Good." He set his bag on the bed, opened it and took out a stethoscope, a bottle of clear liquid and a syringe. "By the way, my name is Knox, Dr. Knox."

//////////////////////

Knox was finished barely a quarter of an hour later. He gave Alphonse an injection of morphine so Heidreich could dab up the clotted blood with the wet washcloth and dry off the moisture with towels, without the boy screaming in pain. Then he swabbed an antibiotic creme over the wounds and lightly bandaged them. Alphonse was drowsy, blinking his eyes in an effort to stay awake, but gradually losing the battle. Dr. Knox replaced his instruments and closed the bag with a loud snap. "He'll sleep the rest of the night and I'll come tomorrow morning to change the bandages. I'll also bring some morphine in pill form for him."

He began to walk towards the door, but stopped and looked straight at Heidreich, "You ever think about being a nurse? You've got a talent for caring for people."

Heidreich blinked in surprise at the question. _A NURSE!? Heaven forbid!_ He preferred to be wrist deep in machine oil, not blood. He finally found his voice and winced inwardly at the squeak in it, "No, I'm actually not very good with people. So I'm an engineer!"

"Pity, that's a great pity," Dr. Knox shook his head but he was smiling. "You'd make a great nurse."

He opened the door, walked through and closed it behind him with a firm bang. The doctor had a larger than life presence and the room seemed unnaturally quiet now. Heidreich was left alone with his thoughts and he just sat on the edge of Alphonse's bed for a moment before he got up and poured the basin of now lukewarm and reddish water down the bathroom sink. He then gathered up and stuffed the bloody washcloth and towels into a laundry hamper. Sunlight slanted sharply through a south window, telling Heidreich the day was well advanced. They'd missed breakfast and now lunch. His stomach growled loudly as if reminding him how empty it was.

Heidreich suddenly remembered his blueprints, he hoped Braun had brought them upstairs. There was a door at the far end of the main room, and he opened to find himself in another room of the same size and layout: tiny sitting area, a table in a nook by a window and two beds. The long leather cases containing his blueprints rested on one of the two beds in the room, a leather valise which he knew held some clothes and few toiletries was at its foot. He busied himself in putting them away either into the drawers of a dresser made of dark wood, or onto the sink vanity in the bathroom. All while he worked, he'd been conscious of dull thuds sounding since he'd entered the room. Now he looked out the window to see a cloiud of black smoke billow up into the sky. It had been a clear blue that morning, but the sky had become overcast, not with clouds, but with smoke rising from dozens of locations all around East City.

_So that's why Hess took the Puppet_, he sat on the edge of one bed and mused as he stared out at East City. _They wanted him for battle._ A squirming bolt of blue lightning shot up from street level just then a few miles away, and another loud thud sounded, muffled by the thick walls of the hotel. Something big was under attack, he saw black smoke punctuated by flames rising, more explosions sounded and a shuddering roar loud enough to shake the floor resounded. A part of that something had just collapsed and he remembered the twisted, animalistic face of the Puppet from that morning in Lior. Heidreich had no doubt he was responsible for it.

///////////////////////////

Not until dusk darkened the eastern sky did he hear footsteps approaching in the hall outside. someone knocked loudly on the door and announced "Dinner!" in a cheery voice. Heidreich opened the door and a stout man with short reddish hair wheeled in a large wooden cart loaded with china plates under silver covers. The stranger, dressed in a stained white coat and black trousers looked over at Alphonse who lay unmoving and snoring, on his stomach. He looked at Heidreich before jerking one thumb over his shoulder. "What happened to him?"

"He was flogged for glaring at an officer."

The man did a double take and managed to look shocked, "No shit?" Tough army you got here, bub."

Heidreich laughed harshly in reply. "It's not my army. I'm just their prisoner. Hell, I don't even recognize my fellow Germans any more."

The man nodded, as if sagely before he laughed and clapped Heidreich so hard on the back he was nearly knocked to his knees. "It's a weird world, ain't it? Eat hearty now before it all gets cold!"

He turned away and walked to the door, then opened it and gave Heidreich a sketchy wave before he re-closed it with a bang. Once he was sure the strange man was gone, Heidreich lifted each cover one by one to reveal a small feast: pork chops, beefsteak, glazed carrots, new peas in butter sauce, mashed potatoes, rich brown gravy, roast turkey, creamed spinach, and whole kernal corn. A pile of three plates, plus a box of silverware, a jug of water and three glasses sat on the cart's lower shelf. Heidreich transferred all of the plates to the square wooden table set up in the nook beforehe took one empty plate and a fork and helped himself to a little of everything.

He was very hungry, starving even and he ate every scrap on the plate, washing the food down with plenty of water. He wished he could have had some beer instead, a chilled Bavarian lager would have been most welcome about now. If the kitchen steward returned, he would have to ask if Amestrians brewed beer. _Heidreich, you idiot, of course they do!_ He mentally chided himself. _Any civilized country has breweries._

_//////////////////////_

Not long after darkness fell, Braun and two soldiers returned with the Puppet, the latter pair dragging his limp body between them. The Sergeant looked at Alphonse and shook his head while the soldiers dumped the thin blond onto the bed. Heidreich sat at the table and watched, but went over to speak with Braun after the soldiers left. "If the Caretaker is hurt, who will look after the Puppet?

The Puppet sprawled on the bed, looking absolutely exhausted His eyes were closed and he breathed in short gasps as if he'd been running for miles. His skin, hair and clothes were streaked with dirt, his clothes torn and stained. "You will have to, Heidreich" Braun growled and the younger man recoiled as if in shock. Care for the murderer of his friends?! _NEVER!_

Braun jerked his head towards the bathroom. "Run a bath and I'll carry him in for you."

Heidreich had no choice but to obey. He went and ran a bath of warm water in the tub and set out towels and a washcloth. A few minutes later, Braun brought in the Puppet who lay slumped over his shoulder like a wet sock. The Sergeant had already taken off his shoes and pants. Together they removed the rest of his clothes before Braun lowered him into the water which immdiately turned black. If Braun hadn't been there, Heidreich would barely have hesitated before he pushed the Puppet's head under the water and held it there until he drowned.

But now he obediently wet a washcloth, rubbed soap on it and then scrubbed the Puppet's face. The skin underneath the dirt was very pale, with a grey undertone to it. Dark purple circles made the skin around his eyes lookd bruised. Heidreich got a glass from on the sink and used it to wet the Puppet's hair, he lathered it with shampoo and rinsed three times before the blond hair looked clean. The Puppet woke up slightly, and he watched them with narrowed yellow eyes. But he made no move except for weak attempts to grab the soap and put it into his mouth.

"He's hungry," Braun grunted with satisfaction. "That's a good sign. After he collapsed for the third time, I thought Eckart had killed him for sure. Mengele is coming next week to examine the Puppet and I expect there will be some 'words' between the two for the way she's been treating him. Because he doesn't react normally, it's easy to treat him like just another machine. But he's mortal, just like us and has his limits."

By the time they finished with the bath, the Puppet was able to stand, if a bit shakily. He climbed out of the tub with Braun's help and stood quietly while his hair and body were toweled dry. Heidreich was sent to rummage in the bags which stood haphazardly about the room to find pajamas. They led him to the wooden table once he was dressed and sat him down. To Heidreich's relief, Braun fed the Puppet after first cutting some beefsteak into small pieces. He put one piece at a time into his mouth and watched him chew like an automotan. "He's exhausted and his body needs protein" was his reasoning for feeding the Puppet mostly meat. Although he did get some glazed carrots into him before the blond head finally slumped until chin touched chest.

"He should have another dose of the Puppetmaster drug, but he's fallen asleep and it's not worth waking him up." Braun said between bites as he ate the remaining food. Heidreich realized while he was cooling his heels at the hotel, Sergeant Braun had been in the thick of battle all day and he was probably starving, a pity the food was probably cold by now. The Puppet had been put to bed and he lay on his back, breathing deeply and evenly, a bomb going off in the hall wouldn't have wakened him. Heidreich pulled the covers up to the Puppet's chin and resisted the urge to smother him with one of the pillows.

"You have to go to your room now, Rocketeer." Heidreich knew better than to argue with Sergeant Braun who could have snapped him in half like a dry twig. He heard a key turn in the lock once the door closed and he suddenly felt so weary as if he'd been fighting too. He washed his face and cleaned his teeth before stripping off his clothes and pulling on his pajamas. He realized the overhead light was still on after he crawled into bed, and half decided to leave it on. But after experimenting with some buttons built into the nightstand, he found one which turned the light off.

Heidreich smiled to himself in the darkness. Well, this WAS a luxury hotel.

He laid back with his hands behind his back and watched the glow of distant fires through the half-closed curtains. The reflection of reddish colors danced upon the opposite wall, like the anger in his heart. Just on the other side of that door was the man he wanted to kill, and Alphonse wasn't in any shape to stop him from exacting vengeance. Heidreich sighed, closed his eyes and drifted off into an indifferent slumber.

////////////////////////////

Heidreich woke up late the next morning to the buzz of voices in the next room. He sat up and rubbed sleep out of his eyes before looking out the window. The sky was a perfect periwinkle blue with only a few puffy clouds riding high. Trickles of grey smoke still rose from the city, but it looked almost peaceful now. In the near distance was the half ruined shell of the building he'd seen under attack yesterday. A green banner bearing the strange sigil of Amestris hung from the front of it, but as Heidreich watched, the banner suddenly detached from the roof and floated down. Almost before it vanished from sight behind other buildings, figures on the roof unrolled a new banner - black, red and white - a gigantic swastika flowed over the buildings facade.

East City had fallen.

The connecting door popped open and another man in the uniform of a kitchen steward poked his head in. This man was shorter, but thinner, with sunken cheeks and grey hair. "Breakfast is served," he announced in a dignified voice before retreating like a turtles head into its shell. Heidreich washed and dressed quickly before following. He was glad to see Alphonse was awake, and propped up on one elbow while eating bacon and eggs from a plate set before him.

"Good morning, Hei!" his voice sounded brighter as he waved his fork in the air, but pain was hiding just behind his eyes. Heidreich still felt his heart lift a bit and he returned the greeting.

Heidreich looked over at the Puppet who was curled into a fetal position on his left side, and he looked to be in a deep sleep. His eyelids were still shadowed and he decided not to wake him until after he'd eaten his own breakfast.

He'd finishied eating half an hour later and the trio were alone in the room. Dr. Knox had kept his promise about the morphine pills. He'd come in to change Alphonse's bandages, a tense affair of gritted teeth. Alphonse was trying to be brave, but little grunts of pain escaped from between his scabbed lips. He was pale and sweating after the new bandages were applied, but had the manners to offer Dr. Knox breakfast. But the doctor just set down a squat brown bottle, grabbed a piece of buttered toast and hurried off as he munched it. Alphonse took two of the pills before laying back down and he was already dozing off, eyelids flickering over soft brown eyes.

He would soon be fast asleep and Heidreich could finally avenge the deaths of his colleagues.

"Alfons?" The boy asked in a breathy voice soft with sleep. "Can I trust you with a secret, Alfons?"

Heidreich's heart began to thud in his chest. He could feel his windpipe constricting and his next breath came out with a faint wheeze. So he just nodded because he didn't think he could speak.

"I lied to you, Alfons. My last name isn't Rockbell, it's Elric. Alphonse Elric."

Heidreich's heart sank, right down to the soles of his feet it seemed.

"The Puppet - Edward, he is..." the boy paused briefly when a spasm of pain hit, he continued speaking after it passed.."...my older brother."

The engineer hung his head. His soul still cried out for vengeance, but he couldn't kill the Puppet. Not now. Not ever.

Heidreich swallowed hard and nodded. "We are friends, Alphonse. I will keep your secret."

**Author's note:** Did everyone recognize the bellboy and the two kitchen stewards? I also used two manga-only characters. First Lieutenant-General Raven, who hopefully isn't the venal and arrogant character he was at Briggs Fortress. Secondly, Dr. Knox, who saw action in Ishbal with Mustang; he later helps the Flame Alchemist save Sgt Maria Ross, and then saves the life of Ran Fan after she's injured by Wrath. (Plus he keeps her and Mei-Chan from killing each other under his roof). He's also tortured by the things he did in Ishbal, but not to the point Dr. Marcoh is.


	72. Pause

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA, just like to play around in its world and torture Ed for a while.

**Warning:** bad language, violence and death; may be sex.

**Beta:** Took-baggins

_Chapter 72_: _Pause_ (Verharren)

"At ease!"

_Grupenfuhrer_ August Xavier Franz Bauer relaxed his body slightlly, legs apart and hands behind his back. His chin remained up, his hawk-like grey eyes staring straight ahead at a point on the wall just above Dietlinde Eckart's head. A foot behind him and a few inches to either side, his adjutants, Otto Remigius von Augsburg and Hans Christian Jungbeck stood in the same positions. They stared straight ahead at the birds flitting outside the window of East Headquarters and waited. There was no nervous shuffling or coughing from anyone in the room.

"Do you have your report prepared, _Grupenfuhrer_?"

Bauer flicked his gaze to Dietlinde's, their eyes caught and held. He didn't look away. How he loathed this woman, and he knew she knew it. Her opinion of hm was equally as low, but he didn't care. No emotion showed on his face nor in his body language, he was too well trained for that. It was his personal opnion women should stay in their proper spere: _kirche,kiche,kinder_(House,church,children). Women should not be interfering in the business of men. Those who stepped outside their God-ordained roles were unnatural creatures and real men should avoid them at all costs.

_Except - Hitler put her in command and I must obey_.

"This is NOT Shambala, Fraulein Eckart. If this were Shambala, war would be unknown, the people gentle and loving, helpless to defend themselves." He took a deep breath. "Within a quarter of an hour I knew we were facing battled-hardened troops. They were not afraid to fight and they did it very well."

Dietlinde laced her fingers together and propped her chin on the intertwined hands. She cocked her head as her lips curved into a poisonous smile. "But we still overwhelmed them, _Grupenfuhrer_, didn't we?"

"But not without casualties, Fraulein. Even without air defenses, even though their tanks were no match for ours, they still managed to draw blood."

"Ah, yes," Dietlinde pretended to show interest in the fingernails of her right hand. "My sympathies on the loss of General Kihrmeijer, that must have quite a shock."

Bauer gritted his teeth and fought the urge to pull his service pistol and shoot her. He'd served under General Kihrmeijer in the Great War when he was just a raw seventeen year old recruit in 1912 till the Armistice of 1919. The General was to have retired after the Conquest of Shambala to his Bavarian estate where he bred and raised parrots, but now he'd return in a pine box. Bauer bit the inside of his cheek to keep the tears at bay, death in battle was always a given, but this was so unexpected. One minute they had the enemy on the run, the next, General Kirhmeijer was reeling back into Bauer's arms. He'd died instantly by the bullet of an enemy sniper, a neat little red hole drilled dead center into his forehead.

"We lost a quarter of our forces, Fraulein, most dead but some were captured. Add the number of wounded to that and we will need fresh reinforcements from Germay if we are to continue advancing. I understand our Fuhrer has his own goals in Europe for which he needs a certain troop strength."

Dietlinde didn't seem to like that as her face went instantly hard. After orienting themselves in Lior, the Thule Army quickly spread out to take more territory in the strategy known as _blitzkrieg_, or' lightning war'. Attack quickly and hard, never let the enemy have a chance to catch its breath, keep moving forward, keep them on the defensive with no time to make a stand. But it had it's limitattions in the alchemic world, the resistance of the enemy was stiffening and they'd nearly stopped the Thulists in East City.

"Fuhrer Hitler has promised us two whole SS battalions to replace the wounded, who will be evacuated back to Germany. As well as more rocket planes, plus tanks and heavy artillery. The attack on Central will proceed as scheduled, so you may return to your troops and tell them the good news. We have your written report to discuss, so you are dismissed."

This time, a dangerous light did leap into Bauer's eyes. He struggled mightily to contain a thick sludge of anger that boiled in his veins, and only his scarred left cheek twitched. His right arm snapped up into the Nazi salute as three pairs of boot heels clicked. "Heil Hitler!" came strongly from three throats and were answered by Eckart and the others with her. Bauer and his two adjutants moved as one to pivot neatly in a half circle, the latter briefly hung back until their leader was exactly two strides in front.

The great wooden doors were opened by the soldiers guarding them. Bauer made a hard left turn in the hall and his adjutants followed like metal filings behind a magnet. Once the trio was out of earshot, Bauer muttered in a low voice, "How did that British poem go? Ah, yes. 'Ours is not to question why, ours is but to do or die.' I truly fear the latter will be our fate in this world."

Von Augsburg and Jungbeck both silently agreed, as loyal German soldiers, they would follow their _Grupenfuhrer_ to Hell and back. And yet, the consensus between the two was this could very well become a strictly one-way trip.


	73. The Flame Rekindled

**THE WATERS OF LETHE**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA, I just like to play around in its world and torture Ed for a while.

**Warnings:** violence, bad language, and death. Maybe sex.

**Beta:** Took-baggins & Nefertekas

Chapter 73: _The Flame Rekindled (_Die Flamme Rekindled)

He stood before the long mirror and soberly studied his reflection in it. _Not bad_. The new uniform felt a bit stiff, the cloth chafing at the underarms, collar and in the crotch. He half wished he could return to the old uniform he'd worn for the past ten years, six of those in exile at Briggs. It still lay draped over a nearby chair, but Lieutenant General Raven had insisted on the change after he came all the way up from Central to inform him of his transfer. He practiced making a salute in the mirror. The material was stiff enough to slow his arm down, but it would have to do.

His ear caught the sound of three pairs of booted feet approaching in the stone-flagged corridor outside.

He grabbed his coat and hat, opened the door of his room and came out into the corridor just as the trio walked up to him. The leader was an imposing blonde woman who wore her uniform and her rank like a second skin. She stood a hair over six feet tall and had a good two inches on him. Her full red lips, large rounded breasts and half-closed blue eyes looked too seductive to belong to a woman her troops fondly nicknamed "The North Face of Briggs". There was no softness on that face, the eyes glared at him like a laser beam and the lips slightly curled into a snarl of contempt.

Two even taller men stood obediently at attention right behind her. One was trim and roughly his height. His longish grey hair was held back with a clip and sharp angled sideburns defined his face, but his eyes were hidden by sunglasses. The other man was the biggest he'd ever seen outside of Major Armstrong, only he was far less friendly. His mostly bald head was shaved into a ponytailed mohawk while each side of his long, drooping mustache was intricately braided. His entire body bulged with muscle, except for his right arm that was made of automail.

"Major-General," he didn't smile as he snapped a crisp salute to the woman and her companions, all of whom outranked him. The man in sunglasses didn't change his unreadable expression, the ends of the woman's lips barely quivered upwards, but only for a moment. The bulging man merely deepened his scowl. Roy was despised here at Briggs and opinions hadn't softened much in the six years he'd been here. But now he was leaving, transferred back to East City, a place he thought he'd never see again.

The woman returned the gesture without evident enthusiasm. Once upon a time she'd been pleased when this ambitious, arrogant Colonel was busted down to Private and placed under her authority. For six long years she'd ordered him to perform every shit job at the fortress in hopes he'd give her an excuse to run him through with the sword she wore strapped to her left hip. But not a spark of insubordination ever showed in those narrow black eyes, he performed every duty without complaint, even cheerfully. In the end, she had to show respect - even grudgingly - to this soldier. Now he was being transferred, she couldn't wait to see the back of him.

"Major Miles! Give Mustang his new orders!"

The man in the sunglasses strode forward and now Roy saw he held a large manila envelope under one arm. His face was still blank, his eyes barely vislble behind the lenses. His red eyes, because Major Miles was the only Ishbalan still serving in the Armed Forces of Amestris. With military precision, Miles handed the envelope to Roy, it was at least two inches thick and rather heavy. He took it in both hands before transferring it underneath one arm and saluting again.

"Corporal Roy Mustang!" the woman barked. "You have officially been transferred to East City. Now, get out of my sight!"

She spun on one heel and retraced her footsteps, Major Miles and the other man stood aside to let her through before each fell into step behind her, hands behind their backs and heads held high. None of them looked back at Roy who held his salute for exactly ten seconds before he too spun around and walked quickly in the opposite direction.

////////////////

Roy settled into his seat in a third class compoartment and looked blankly out the window at the landscape rolling by. This far north winter lasted eight months of the year. Snow retreated to the foothills of the Briggs Mountain range in the brief spring and summer, but soon enough the bitter cold reigned again. It took a special sort of person to live in conditions like this, and Roy Mustang felt no shame in admitting he wasn't one of them. He sighed at the unchanging landscape of deep snow and bare black trees before he turned to the valise on the seat next to him.

It was time to read his new orders. Roy extracted the envelope from the valise, undid the cord which held it shut and slid the contents out on to his lap. For the next two hours, he read the copies of Major Smiley's reports and stared at the pictures. He recognized Alphonse Elric immediately and smiled to see the handsome boy's face at last. The Fullmetal had kept his promise. But his eyes narrowed at the the photograph of Edward and the state he was in. His former subordinate had vanished utterly that night, time and time again Roy told his interrogators about his final conversation with Edward Elric. His last sight of the boy was him running away to find and rescue Alphonse.

_Now you're back Fullmetal, and you've brought trouble with you._

He scanned the photographs of the invaders and read their names: Dietlinde Eckart, Rudolph Hess, Joseph Goebbels, Heinrich Himmler. Roy committed their names and faces to memory. These people didn't know it yet, but they'd just made a powerful enemy.

He replaced the reports and photographs back into the envelope and shoved the whole mess back into the valise before looking out the window again. It had gotten dark while he'd been reading, Roy grimaced and rubbed the back of his stiff neck. His eyes burned too, and the view from the window hadn't changed at all. He stretched out on the hard bench seat, his head pillowed on his coat and fell fast asleep. Roy dreamed of her while the train rushed across Amestris towards East City.

//////////////////////

Black Hayate remembered him. The dog's mouth opened in a big canine grin, but he walked casually over to sniff the fingers Roy held out. His wet, black nose quivered at the unfamiliar scents before he raised his head and stared long and hard out of those big brown eyes, as if to say _Where have you been?_ The dog's reaction made Roy chuckle, Black Hayate has always been rather cool towards him, as if he was jealous. Roy held up a blue leash, "Hayate? Wanna go visit Riza?"

He wasn't sure about this human, but he was offering a walk, an irresistable treat to a bored Black dog raised an eyebrow as if he was condsidering the idea. It was such a human gesture, Roy couldn't help but laugh out loud. Hayate cocked his head and he gave Roy another appraising look before deciding he would let this man walk him. He sat down and raised his head so Roy could click the leash snap onto his collar. Hayate heeled obediently, just like his mistress taught him, yet he pranced a little with excitement.

"Uh, sir?" the man who cared for Hayate spoke up with a definate nervous edge to his voice. Roy gave him the famous Mustang grin in response.

"You outrank me now, Havoc. All you have to do is say the word and the military police will come and throw my ass in the brig."

Havoc looked horrified at the thought. He didn't want to get Mustang into any more trouble - but he would be in trouble himself for allowing Mustang to take the dog into a hospital. In the end, he gave in just like Roy knew he would and walked with an erect stance a few strides ahead of Roy and Hayate. Something about Havoc bothered Roy, but he couldn't put his finger on it at first.

"Havoc, have you given up smoking?" Roy's voice was sly, as if daring him to turn around, but Havoc didn't take the bat.

"Only when I'm caring for Hayate - sir," the honorific slipped unconscously into Havoc's reply. "The Lieutenant-General told me she she could smell cigarette smoke when she came home from missions, and could I not do it anymore. She said it in a really nice way, but even an idiot like me knows an order from a request."

////////////////////////////////////

East City was warm this time of year and Roy was embarassed to discover he was sweating, dark rings forming under the arm of his uniform by the time they reached the millitary hospitals front steps. Havoc had gratefully lit up during the walk and he stood there, hands in pockets and body relaxed while he looked quizzically at his former commander. Another man was coming down the steps, very tall with dark hair cropped so short Roy saw a few patches of bare skin. He smiled broadly at Roy and Havoc before saluting the latter, and both men returned it. Black Hayate ignored the man with Major's bars on his uniform, sniffed a fire hydrant and delicately cocked a leg at it.

"I'm Smiley, Major James Smiley, Corporal Mustang. I knew you'd bring the Lieutenant-Colonel's dog. I own two myself and realize how strong the bond can be. So I came along to smooth your way. " Roy nodded and puffed out a breath before he pulled a handkerchief from a pants pocket and wiped his sweating face. He looked at the steps without enthusiam because they seemed very steep, but he nodded and said "Let's go" to Havoc.

Once in the main reception area, he let the gregarious blond distract the ladies with his fumbling charm while he picked up the surprised dog, plopped him on a wheelchair seat and tossed a towel from the soiled linen cart over him. Roy did this with a well practiced air of insouciance which returned easily to him and he wheeled Black Hayate away into a corridor without anyone the wiser. If Smiley was at all astonished, he hid his surprise very well, put his arms behind his back and strolled casually next to Roy. Military nurses don't approve of animals - except companion animals - in hospitals, but the few who tried to openly challenge him were quickly intercepted and sent on their way.

Hawkeye was in a small room consisting of four beds, but she was the only patient and slept undisturbed in glorious isolation. Smiley patted his shoulder, grinned and said, "You'll have ten minutes before the head nurse drops the hammer, so don't waste any time."

Roy stopped the wheelchair right next to the bed and whipped off the towel. Hayate was a bit disoriented, he shook his head and looked around before his nose began to quiver at a familiar scent. He whined for the first time, then crouched down before leaping onto the bed. His tail softly thumped the covers, but his beloved mistress was still asleep, so he snuggled next to her and put his head down between his paws. But Hayate stayed awake, his brown eyes alert for any sign of recognition.

Riza must have known she had company because she stirred and opened her eyes a few minutes later. A warm glow spread in Roy's chest as she re-connected with her dog. The tears surprised him because Riza Hawkeye was a true soldier who never cried and rarely showed her true feelings.

"Sir."

"Don't call me that Hawkeye, you outrank me now, remember?"

A slow smile crawled across Riza's face and Roy felt himself returning the expression. _Damn this woman, she can still make my heart flutter like a lovesick teenager's._ "Riza, you stood by me after - that night - and now I can return the favor.."

Riza stopped petting Black Hayate long enough to wave the fingers of her right hand in the air, "You were recalled from Briggs for a reason, Roy. Even though Amestris threw you away, it needs you now. I had a feeling this would happen, our country is facing a grave threat and it doesn't forget it's heroes."

//////////////////////////////////////////

Roy remembered, although six years ago it seemed Amestris would be perfectly happy to destroy its heroes. He'd been put on trial after recovering from the injuries Bradley had inflicted, and the government wanted his blood. No lawyer in Central would represent him, and the public defender who'd finally been appointed to take his case let Roy know from the start he hated his guts. Fuhrer Bradley had a surprisingly large and loyal fan base. People loved him for expanding the size of Amestris, for standing up to Creta and Aurego, for wiping out the Ishbalan "terrorists" and keeping them safe from Drachman aggression.

With no tangible proof Bradley was a homunculus or of the widespread corruption in Military HIgh Command, things looked black indeed. Roy tried to resign himself to the facts: he would be found guilty on all counts and an ignomious death at the end of a rope or in front of a firing squad would be the fate of "the Hero of Ishbal". Every day public sentiment against him was reinforced by the sight of Bradley's devastated widow, dressed in black and weeping up in the spectator's gallery. She didn't even have her adopted son, Selim for comfort from her loss because he was dead too. Bradley had strangled the innocent and frightened boy to death right in front of Roy, but with no witnesses other than himself, the State Prosecutor easily tore his story to shreds. The public defender barely lifted a finger to argue, rebut or cross-examine.

Only a derisive snort answered Roy's testimony of how the Fullmetal Alchemist was the one who told him, because he'd disappeared the same night, as if erased. The prosecutor suggested Roy had killed both Edward and his younger brother, Alphonse because they oppposed his lust for power. "Those poor boys are just ashes now, blown about by the wind" the prosecutor said in his closing remarks, bringing the spectators, the news reporters, the jury and even the judge to tears. Unless "the People's Alchemist" were to suddenly make a last minute, dramatic entrance and corroborate every last bit of Roy's story, a guilty verdict and death sentence were inevitable. Only his former subordinates stood up for him, but they were labeled "brainwashed" and their testimony mere "hero worship".

A few hours after the jury adjourned to deliberate his fate, Roy paced in his small cell that night, unable to eat or sleep. What had happened to the promise of the sharp young Major who passed the alchemy exam at the age of eighteen and covered himself with glory in Ishbal? Dead, just like poor Maes Hughes, the damn prosecutor had intimated Roy was even responsible for HIS death during the fnal remarks to the jury. Another strike against him, another drop in his brimming bucket of guilt. Roy finally threw himself down on the uncomfortable bunk, once he turned his head and scowled at his untouched and now cold dinner. He rolled over and turned his back on it, closed his eyes, but never went deeper than a light doze.

_I'll sleep when I'm dead._

///////////////////////////////////

The guards at the Central headquarters brig hauled him out of the cell soon after daybreak and hustled him upstairs to the court room. There only the judge, a court reporter and a couple of tired looking bailiffs were waiting for him. The judge looked like he hadn't slept at all, his unshaven face was dark with stubble, his eyes were red rimmed and even his white wig was askew on his head. Roy looked over at the empty jury box, then at the closed door to the jury room.

"Don't bother waiting, Mustang. The jury has been dismissed." The man's tone was sour, like curdled milk.

"Y-yuor honor?" Roy was stunned by the hope which surged in his breast.

"The existence of certain - documents - came to my attention last night. Copies of them had been messengered to both the prosecutor's office and the public defender, plus several high ranking officers. These ah-documents detailed accounts of forbidden experimets in human transmutation conducted by our military in secret laboratories all around the city. It didn't name names of those involved, just pseudonyms, but enough to throw suspicion on some highly placed people. More importantly, they backed up your story of official corruption and conspiracy with unnamed foreign agents to the degree the state's case against you is fatally damaged. Therefore, in the best interests of the State and healing wounds, your sentence is commuted to permanent exile at the Briggs Fortress. Court adjourned!"

"Wait, your honor. What do you mean by my sentence?"

"Yes, Mustang, your hearing must be off. 'Commuted'. Ddn't your attorney tell you?"

"My attorney hates my guts and he informed me on Day One, your honor. So, no, he didn't tell me about this."

"Oh, the jury deliberated for five hours before returning a guilty verdict. You were orginally scheduled to be hung in the prison courtyard at sunset. But after I read those documents, I had no choice but to inform Parliament and they went into special session to commute your sentence." The judge seemed rather put out at the thought he'd been deprived of his chance to put on the black cap. No wonder he'd sounded like someone had pissed in his morning oatmeal.

Roy's head was in a whirl. He'd been convicted, but he wasn't going to die. Although if he was going to Briggs, he'd wished the State would hang him instead. Briggs was commanded by Major-General Olivia Armstrong, the older sister of Major Alex Louis Armstrong. She had twice his drive, but less than a fraction of his warmth. Her nickname was "The North Face of Briggs" and it was very fitting, Roy privately considered her to be the most ruthless person on the face of this earth. Glaciers came to her for lessons in coldness, milkitary rumor had it the Drachmans beleived her to be a witch.

He was gonna go through hell.

/////////////////////////////////////////////

Now it was in the past, that hell seemed preferable to the chaos when the Battle for East City exploded a week later. Roy saw the planes and he knew his flame attack wouldn't work. They flew too high and too fast, and in any case, Roy knew ground troops would be coming soon. The wisest course was to evacuate terrified residents from the city. People streamed past him while he battled the flow in the opposite direction, towards the military hospital. He had to find Riza and make sure she got out.

"Mustang! Mustang!" Roy saw the blond head of First Lieutenant Jean Havoc bobbing above the crowd and he felt a brief surge of thanks Havoc was so tall. Eventually, the human tide parted and there he was, pushing Riza in a wheelchahir, Black Hayate sitting like a king in her lap. A week of enforced bed rest had done her good, her eyes were bright and her cheeks had a healthy color to them. "The rest of the hospital staff and patients started evacuation procedures, but Lieutenant-Colonel Hawkeye didn't want to leave without seeing you."

Roy tried hard to fix a stern look on his face, but he didn't succeed,after all, the man meant well. "Good job, Havoc. Please make sure she gets on a train to Central and keep her safe until she's recovered." Havoc snapped a salute which Roy returned before they went in seperate directions, Jean, Riza and Hayate to a train station in the western suburbs and Roy to the east, to face the enemy. He reached into his uniform pockets and pulled on his gloves, the fabric embraced the skin like old friends reuiniting after a long seperation.

//////////////////////////////////////////////

He found General Grumman directing front line defenses in front of Easy City headquarters. "Their ground forces must have started moving before dawn because spotters saw the dust they raised before their planes had finished bombing. A forward skirmish force went out to meet them but they were wiped out in short order. You need to slow them just long enough to give us time to remove sensitive documents from headquarters. Can you do that?"

Roy nodded in reply, but he was stunned. "Aren't you going to try to defend the city?"

"It's a lost cause, Mustang. Central is the ultlimate target of the Thulists. It's the heart of Amestris, so we have to withdraw and save our forces for a last ditch stand."

Roy didn't like it, but he understood the reasoning behind Grumman's order. "Understood, sir!" He saluted crisply, but Grumman just waved his hand filpppantly and went back to issuing orders to the men setting up barricades.

"Give 'em hell, Roy."

Roy smiled bitterly before he turned and walked through a gap in the barricades, towards the enemy. He rubbed his fingertips together while he walked, the feeling of the rough cloth - tradenamed _Pyro-tex_ - helped him calm his racing thoughts. He and his gloves had been through a lot together, and they'd never failed him.

He met the enemy's first forward unit about six blocks later, on the edge of East City's Old Town district. Approaching him were two of the largest tanks he'd ever seen, and walking on either side were dozens of German and Thule sodiers. They all looked armed to the teeth and spoiling for a fight. Roy stood in the middle of the deserted street, one hand upraised, the fingers poised to snap.

The lead tank halted, a man was standing up in a hatchway with an arrogant smile plastered on his face. He waved one hand in a dismissive gesture. "Get out of our way, little bug, unless you prefer we just squash you now."

His command of Amestrian was very good, although it was strongly accented. Roy knit black eyebrows together, his narrowed eyes focussed on his target. "I am Corporal Roy Mustang of the Armed Forces of Amestris, I'm called the Flame Alchemist. Retreat at once or you will be destroyed!"

The soldiers stared at him for just a moment before one chuckled, then another and another. Finally, all of them started laughing, the officer in the tank joining in loudest of all. When the noise finally began to die down, he pointed his swagger stick at Roy and yelled down into the hatch, "Crush this bug!"

The tanks massive gun moved with a clicking sound like the crack of doom until it pointed right at Roy.

"Ready! Aim! FIRE!"

Roy snapped his fingers as the officer sounded the "eff" of "FIRE" sounded and a tiny flame erupted. He concentrated on adjusting the oxygen level around his target before he unleashed his attack. It leapt forward in the blink of an eye and met the tank, and the shell as it raced down the barrel. There was a blinding explosion and the force of it first ruffled Roy's uniform before it knocked him flat on his back. Hot air and debris rushed over and around Roy, and he shielded his face against the macadam before he looked up. The tank and another one behind it were reduced to smoking holes in the ground, while the street and the sides of buildings were painted with an unholy mess of blood, brains and assorted body parts blown into small pieces. It looked like a particularly violent sort of child's finger painting. Those soldiers not evaporated by the blast lay unmoiving and were probably dead.

Roy got back to his feet, brushed dust off his uniform and out of his hair. His handiwork didn't fill him with joy or any other positive emotion. He was a soldier now and his duty was to kill the enemy and protect Amestris. A well remembered line from a famous poem written in the last century echoed in his head as he cut over to the next street in search of more tanks to destroy.

_Ours is not to question why. Ours is but to do or die._

**Author's note:** So much for my pledge to return this story to its semi-drabble roots.


	74. On Tenterhooks

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA, I just like to play around in its world and annoy the canon characters for awhile

**Warnings:** violence and death, perhaps sex

**Beta:** Took-baggins

_Chapter 74__:_ On Tenterhooks (Am Spannung)

Alfons Heidreich shook a pill out of the brown glass bottle and he stared at it laying in the palm of his hand as if it was a poisonous spider about to pill looked utterly harmless and insignificant at first glance, just a small white disk bisected by a score line right through the middle. If a person didn't know what it was, it would have been mistaken for a more ordinary dose of beneficial medicine.

But this was Puppetmaster, a concoction that robbed a young man of his will to the extent he performed any task his "master" ordered him to. Horrible things that would have revolted Edward Elric had he any conscious memory of those acts.

If Heidreich had his way, he would tip the entire contents of the bottle down the toilet and flush the pills away, all of them. Edward would have to come out of the drug "cold turkey" and suffer withdrawal pains as they came.

Like his friends and colleagues had suffered in their last moments in that hellish circle etched upon the stone floor. A Nazi film crew had immortalized the entire sequence of events onto celluloid, and one day Eckart had insisted he and Alphonse watch it alongside the senior Thule Society staff. No one, not even the projectionist moved after the film had finished. When the film leader ran out, it flapped uselessly on the reel, only the machines low hum sounded in the now silent room. People were absolutely stunned by the power of the alchemic reaction, their senses overpowered by the sight of the Gate, captured on experimental color film. The recorded screams of the sacrifices as those horrible black snake-like arms took them left most of the audience numb, although a few men were overcome to the point they broke down in ragged sobs.

After he and Alphonse were released, they went out into the sunlit hotel courtyard together. It was the middle of the day and the solar rays beat down hot and airless, but neither of them could seem to get warm. Alphonse rubbed his hands up and down his arms, but he couldn't stop shivering and his teeth chattered for a full five minutes before he could say anything without stuttering. He didn't speak much, except to repeat several times: "Brother wouldn't do that. He would DIE first."

As if he was trying to convince not Heidreich, but himself.

Once Heidreich wanted nothing more than to kill the Puppet and his soul still cried out for justice in the middle of the night after he woke up from nightmares of those who died in the array. He would sit trembling and sobbing on the bed while sweat poured down his face and soaked his pajamas through. Those were the nights Heidreich abandoned any more thoughts of sleep. He dressed hastily and threw himself into his work, his pen scratching over sheet after sheet, filling them with drawings of rockets and formulae for new fuel mixtures. He named them after his dead friends in an effort to assuage his guilt.

Sleep would eventually come calling and the staff person who brought their meals, or Dr. Knox would find him slumped over in his chair, breathing deeply and drooling slightly over his papers. He'd wake up muzzily and feel strangely out of sorts because the unnatural position usually left him with a stiff neck and shoulders. Plus the papers his head was pillowed on were crinkled and damp, the ink smudged to the point of illegibility

"Alfons? Don't forget, break the pill in half, and then half again," Alphonse's voice had an anxious tone to it and Heidreich turned slightly to favor his _doppelganger_ with a sour look. He knew Alphonse knew Edward's role in the deaths of his friends, but he probably didn't realize just how close Heidreich had been to killing Edward.

_"Alfons? Can I trust you with a secret?"_

Of course Alphonse could trust him, but it didn't make the situation any easier to bear.

After two weeks of bed rest, Alphonse's wounds had healed enough for him to get up and take care of his own basic needs. But he still had to move slowly and carefully, any sudden gestures would wring soft grunts of pain from between the boy's lips.

Fully dressed and lying on his side in bed, Alphonse directed Heidreich in Edward's care. On this morning, Edward sat quietly on the other bed in the room while his hair was brushed and pulled back into a ponytail. Last of all, Heidreich snapped the pill in half, and then half again before he placed the pill on Edward's tongue and held up a glass of water for him to drink and swallow. Edward's face remained blank, but Heidreich detected an occasional flash of consciousness behind those staring yellow eyes. The drugs grip was weakening slowly but surely.

"He looks very nice, Alfons," Alphonse nervously chewed the edge of one thumb for he was curiously on edge today. If he noticed Edward was regaining his senses would the Thulists also realize this? Possibly not, for "shambalans" were considered barely human and usually ignored. But this Dr. Mengele was an unknown quantity; he might be sharper than the others and know something was up. Nothing frightened Alphonse more than the scenario of Edward put so deeply under the Puppetmasters spell he would never come out.

He stiffened when someone knocked on the door outside, and again when it swung open even before he had time to call out "Come in!" He threw a nervous glance over to Heidreich and was glad to see he'd stowed the pill fragments in his pocket. He looked back towards the door and was suddenly unable to breathe.

Dr. Mengele was here.

He was a very handsome young man with dark brown hair and blue eyes,who stood tall and trim in his uniform, the medical bag he carried the only incongrous note. But looks were just on the surface, Mengele's face had a certain _stiffness_ to it, and those eyes were cold and calculating. Rather like a snake hypnotizing its prey, judging when the time was right to strike and Alphonse suddenly trembled because he felt cold all over.

"H-H-Ha-hallo, Dr. Mengele," he ventured and mentally cursed because his voice shook so hard and his heart beat double time in his chest with enough force to make the blood roar in his ears. He ventured a quick glance over to Heidreich and saw the other boy had gone deathly pale.

Mengele's lips quivered, almost, but not quite smiling, but when he actually frowned Alphonse thought he would die of fright right then and there. 'And who are you, young man? Your German is good enough, but the accent is strange, rather like the Puppet's voice used to be."

Alphonse gathered the tattered remnants of his courage together and managed to force out, "My name is Alphonse Rockbell, I'm his caretaker - uh," he hastened to point at Heidreich before his nerve failed completely. "And his, the Rocketeer's too."

Mengele nodded once as if to acknowledge Heidreich's presence, but his expression was unreadable as he set his medical bag down on Alphonse's bed, opened it and pulled out a stethoscope. He nestled the rubber ends into his ears, bent down to undo the top five buttons of Edward's shirt before he placed the cone-shaped piece of metal against the younger man's chest to listen.

He didn't speak again until he ordered Edward "Breathe deeply!" and Edward obeyed without a moment's hesitation. This made Alphonse wonder just how aware his brother was of Mengele's presence or if he even realized his fate depended on how perceptive the doctor was. He couldn't wait until Edward's mind was free and they could talk together, his eyes filled with tears and one ran down his cheek and he sloppily brushed it away. Alphonse quickly rolled onto his stomach, but too late, Mengele had noticed the movement.

"Why are you crying, boy?"

"My back hurts." Alphonse's voice was muffled by his pillow which hid the shakiness in it, but he nearly screamed when weight settled onto the bed and cold fingers pulled his shirt up. He could feel Mengele's gaze burning through his skin and he would not have been surprised if all his scars had burst open and poured blood. Mengele's touch, as he examined the wounds, was very gentle, but it still made his skin crawl. What the doctor had said, _the accent is strange, like the Puppet's used to be_, made Alphonse feel rather strange all over at the notion Mengele may have been the last person to hear Edward speak before the drug finally silenced him.

_What did you say to him, Brother? _It was a rhetorical question and Alphonse answered himself. _Probably something along the line of 'go to hell!'._ He'd never said anything worse than "Dammit!" when they were growing up,but knowing Edward's temperament, Alphonse felt sure he'd learned harsher words in six years.

Alphonse felt his shirt pulled back down, he was trembling all over due to the stress and suddenly realized his teeth were tightly clenched. It took conscious effort to relax his jaws and the muscles ached from the strain.

"Do you have pills for the pain?"

"Yes, I just took two, but they haven't taken effect yet."

He hoped Dr. Knox wouldn't come in while Mengele was still here. Although Heidreich was the only one who knew Alphonse was cutting the Puppetmaster dosage, Knox might notice Edward was regaining his self-awareness and let something slip to the German doctor. That would be a disaster for him because his punishment would certainly be worse than just sixteen lashes.

Both he and Heidreich were greatly relieved when Mengele shifted back to the other bed and returned to examining Edward. Heidreich was on tenterhooks as well as he watched Mengele shine a penlight into the Puppet's eyes and he felt even more nervous after the doctor frowned again, and muttered under his breath. "His pupils are reacting too quickly." Just then, a knock sounded softly on the door, it opened after Mengele called out over one shoulder, "Come in!"

It was Dietlinde Eckart and a scowl automatically planted itself on Heidreich's face. But he couldn't help himself and shoved his hands into his pants pockets so she wouldn't see he'd balled them into fists. He'd been a fool all this time for wanting to kill the Puppet when Eckart should have been his real target. But she was too well protected by layers of bodyguards, and two enormous men with the build of two legged bulldogs now stood just inside the door. He could see the outlines of gun holsters underneath their jackets; they would shoot him dead without second thoughts if he attempted to assault her. Although they were so muscular, they probably wouldn't need the guns, they could just tear him apart, limb from limb.

Eckart looked upon Edward with a fond smile and purred like a cat licking cream off its paws, "How soon will my Puppet be ready to fight again, Dr. Mengele?" Her lips curved into a gentle smile which didn't reach her brown eyes. Mengele was not her friend and it was his job to give her the answer that she wanted to hear, not the answer he should tell her.

But he didn't and the smile wavered, fighting to cling to her face.

"The Puppet hasn't suffered any lingering effects from his collapse, but he is still very tired and needs another week of rest. It's my professional opinion the physical stress is weakening the effectiveness of the drug, so you will have to rely on the troops, tanks and planes until he's back to full strength. I understand Hitler has granted you fresh reinforcements, yes?"

Eckart was positively tight-lipped now, her body language stiff as a two by four. "Yes, yes, I can do that." She waved impatiently in the air as if the admission smelled bad and she wanted to disperse it.

"I've been working on a new and improved version of Puppetmaster." He smiled as if to sweeten the offer. "It's not quite ready but I should have a small supply of pills ready before I come back in a week to examine him again. This new version will act more quickly; also it will be longer lasting, so he will need only one dose each day. Plus I've discovered away to formulate some essential vitamins into the drug, to give him extra energy."

Eckart's smile returned, crawling a bit lopsided across her face at first before it gained enough strength to beam brighter than before. But Heidreich noticed it still failed to warm her brown eyes which remained flinty and calculating. His fingernails dug hard into his palms, scoring the flesh with tiny red crescents. "That is excellent new, Herr Doctor, please convey my thanks to the Fuhrer after you return to Germany. I confess I miss summer in Berlin."

"Summer, Fraulein?" Mengele cocked his head and smiled; an evil little facial rictus. "You will be interested to know about the time difference, it's only the summer of 1921 here, but October of 1936 in our world. Scientists all over Germany are very interested in studying this phenomenon, and they are petitioning Hitler for permission to come through the portal and do research. It's very exciting in a way, wouldn't you agree?"

Eckart didn't agree, but the purr had returned to her voice, so it was easy to lie and say this was exciting. First, she he would conquer this world, this Shambala and only when it was subdued would she would allow the scientists to come and study to their hearts content. But she would discover the secrets of alchemy, the wisdom of the ancient Aryan race first and use it to set herself up as ruler. She would be the Shambalans liege, their Queen, and even Hitler himself would have to show her respect.

"You will have to tell me more over lunch, Dr. Mengele. First I shall give you a little tour of East City, yes, it's a horrible name and I plan to re-name every city, town and village in Amestris. Even the country itself shall have a new name, something honoring our Fuhrer, of course." Eckart turned on one heel, expecting Mengele to follow, and he did so with a bemused expression fixed upon his handsome face. The bodyguards followed both of them out, the door slammed and the three were alone again.

The pain pills were taking effect and Alphonse was almost completely asleep, so Heidreich removed Edward's hair tie and urged him to lie down and sleep as well. Then he returned to his room and his plans for new rockets, closing the connecting door softly behind him.

Alphonse breathed deep and even, but Edward was wide awake and half aware. He'd snapped his eyes open almost as soon as he heard the gentle _snick_ of Heidreich's door closing. The drug's hold was very loose on him now and he often felt like a swimmer hovering just under the waters surface, watching events unfold on the other side of a thin, translucent curtain. Things were a bit blurred yet they occasionally switched into sharp focus, like he was turning a radio dial and a station would suddenly burst clear through a layer of static.

Like today when he realized Josef Mengele was just inches away from him, easily within range of his fists. He'd actually balled up his right hand so tightly the artificial tendons creaked, but then the drug kicked in and pulled him away into the fog just in time. He'd blinked at the light shone into his eyes, but the words he wanted to say stuck in his throat like bones and he thought he would choke on them.

Now he stared at the white ceiling decorated with plaster flowers in high relief, he thought he recognized the old Imperial Seal of Amestris, but he might be just imagining it. He shifted in the bed and looked over at the figure sleeping in the bed next to him, had the person there just muttered "Brother", or was he just imagining that too?

Edward Elric was caught at the crossroads of dreams and reality, not fully awake or asleep. Hesitant feet turned first one way, and then the other, not sure of which road to take. Then something in his brain went _click_ and he took a few stumbling steps towards reality as more of the ice in his subconscious thawed under the warming sun.

His eyes closed and he fell into an exhausted slumber. Edward went into a dream soon after and he twitched, moaned, and finally rolled over, facing the other bed. His lips parted and formed words; he spoke a few very softly before his mind progressed to deeper sleep.

Alphonse woke up a moment later, brown eyes stupid with sleep blinking rapidly. He could have sworn he just heard Edward calling his name. But his brother was asleep, curled into a fetal position and Alphonse watched his sides rising and falling in a regular rhythm. He must have dreamt it, so he closed his eyes and surrendered to sleep again.


	75. Awakening

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA, I just like to play around in its world and torture Ed for a while.

**Author's note:** This chapter and the next will have shifting tenses as I switch between viewpoints of different characters. So buckle up, 'cause it's gonna be a bumpy ride, buttercup.

**Warning:** violence and death in spades this time. This chapter contains plenty of bad language too. No sex - hetero nor yaoi - no, not even if you squint. This is your last warning, here there be monsters!

**Beta:** Took-baggins. (have a great vacation, you earned it!)

_Chapter 75__:_ Awakening (Aufbruch)

_Where am I?_

He crouched and stared dumbly at the ground which rumbled as if an earthquake was convulsing it The sound of his labored breathing was loud and harsh in his ears, almost, yet not quite drowning out the rapid thud of his heart. A pitched battle was raging all around, rifles crackling, bullets flying, shells bursting, people yelling and screaming. But all outside sounds came muffled to him as if he was underwater and hovering just a few inches below the surface, his arms, and legs treading silently. He raised his head and looked over at the enemy lines, but not really seeing the figures in blue uniforms several feet away, he thought he was just imagining them. Clouds of smoke drifted through the air and through his mind, obscuring clear sight and thought. Those uniforms looked familiar, like he should know them, but his pummeled brain couldn't make the connection.

Someone close by was shouting at the top of his or her lungs. He thought the words were directed at him, but he couldn't be sure. All this seemed so unreal, maybe he was just dreaming, and if he closed his eyes and opened them, he would finally wake up. Something pulled hard at his upper body and made pain flare in his neck and shoulders. Pains just sharp enough to break through his meandering thoughts and line them up like tin soldiers. He believed he could _just _make out the words; someone - his master - wanted him to stand up. Bu he was tired, so very tired, yet must obey, maybe if he did what he was told, his master would let him lie down and rest.

His muscles didn't want him to move, they were comfortable where they were, but the wrenching force around his neck came again. He sighed and reluctantly began to lever himself upwards, tendons and ligaments protested all the way until he was more or less vertical. Something slammed at high speed into a nearby building which seemed to crumble in slow and fast motion at the same time. Shattered pieces of bricks came bouncing and whirling past him on the cracked macadam surface. A burst of hot air sent smoke and fine particles into his eyes; he blinked rapidly and shook his head in a vain attempt to clear his vision. Pain flared in his neck again and he slowly turned his head to look at his master. She was angry with him, her face distorted in a perpetual scream as she pointed to the people in blue uniforms. She seemed to be shouting something like "Destroy them!" but it took his sluggish mind, stupid with exhaustion, a few beats to process the order.

His hands came up so slowly, his shoulders hunching, the palms pivoting to face one another. They moved so slowly, as if he was reaching through molasses. He must clap them together to summon the Power, but the muscles didn't seem to understand the signals from the brain. He felt he must obey, but he didn't see...

This wasn't working, the muffled sounds, his exhaustion, and the smoke all conspired to distract him, why was he summoning the Power?

Oh, that's right, to destroy the enemy.

But - who were the enemy? Nothing was making any sense to him. Perhaps understanding would come if he just rose a little higher...

Edward's arms shoved down through the water and he kicked hard until his head broke the surface. He puffed out stale air and took a deep breath of fresh, sweet consciousness.

He immediately wished he hadn't when the outside world slapped him hard in the face. He gaped stupidly at the pitched battle going on about him: his head swiveled rapidly back and forth, taking it all in and gradually becoming more horrified by the second.

_Where __am__ I?_

His last truly conscious memory was of a dank, stone-walled cell in Berlin, he struggled for air while several men held him face down on a creaky camp bed that smelled faintly of mildew. He remembered that and the pain of the very unwanted injection between his ribs, compounded by anger mixed with fear, and desperation.

Then suddenly, he felt nothing, he saw nothing, heard nothing, smelled nothing and spoke nothing. Memories he'd forgotten about, memories he'd tried to suppress because they were so painful and raw flooded his mind until he was gasping for breath. He looked at his hands, both were streaked with dirt and sweat, the rubber cover of the right hand was cracked and there was a split between his third and fourth fingers. It gaped wide enough he could see the metal innards which enabled him to move his hand.

Edward was staring at his hands as if fascinated, flexing the fingers, curling, and uncurling them; when the scream came again, the voice hoarse from over use. "Puppet, you must obey me and destroy the enemy! Do what your master tells you!"

The fingers of both hands instinctively balled into fists because he recognized that voice. He slowly turned his face right again to see Dietlinde Eckart.

She wasn't quite so pretty anymore, her hair mussed and tangled and face streaked with dirt. The intricate uniform she wore was torn and stained. Hatred and a little bit of desperation twisted her features into a frozen rictus, she looked like some sort of monstrosity who only masqueraded as human. Edward felt rage start to percolate hotly in his veins; the sensation spread throughout his body until he could hear his teeth grinding. He'd once told Dietlinde the only task he'd willingly perform was wrapping his hands around her neck and squeezing until life left her body. His exhaustion vanished momentarily, pushed back by the urge to kill Eckart.

She tugged very hard on a long dark piece of leather and pain flared like a malign thing in his neck and shoulders again, bringing another spurt of molten anger with it. His left hand went up to his neck and nimble fingers felt the soft leather encircling it. The rage darkened as his fingertips explored and sent information to his brain, then something black exploded behind his eyes after he felt the buckle and realized the object was a collar. A collar: buckled around his neck as if he was a dog. A mental image formed of Eckart throwing sticks for him to retrieve and bring back in his mouth, he dropped them at her feet; and panted happily while she patted his hair and praised _Good dog!_

_She put a collar on me and led me around like I was her DOG??!! That goddamned __bitch__!! I'm going to fucking __KILL__ her!!_

Eckart tugged hard again on the leash and Edward's rage exploded outward like an erupting volcano. He bared his teeth, grabbed the leash with both hands, and yanked back with all his newfound strength. He would pull her over to him and wrap the leash around her damned scrawny neck. Then he would pull it tight, as tight as he could until she was just another lifeless corpse, like the others lying still on the dusty street.

The flames surprised him because he hadn't seen them coming. It was a veritable wall of fire that cut him off from the object of his ire; he heard her scream shrilly and he hoped she was burning alive. The thin leather umbilicus that connected them quickly parted with a loud _snap_. He was already leaning back, and he promptly lost his balance. Edward fell hard on his backside before he flopped further on to his back, the impact with the hard road knocking the wind out of him.

Edward lay there, stunned, and stared at the overcast sky of clouds and smoke, and huffed for air for a few moments. He'd also struck his head a glancing blow on the macadam, causing a veil of multi-colored stars to obscure his vision and he had to wait until it cleared. Only then could he sit up slightly to see what was going on.

Eckart wasn't dead and he felt keenly disappointed, for she was still very much alive, and a bolt of fury shot through him, making him tremble with its intensity. Nor was Dietlinde alone, a third person stood facing her, a tall man with a shock of mussed black hair. He stretched his right arm in her direction, a once-white, but now soot stained glove just inches away from her nose. But his face was blurry, and Edward blinked his watering eyes before he swiped an impatient left sleeve over his face. It helped - a little - but what he saw made his jaw drop.

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Mustang stood alone in the middle of the wide intersection of Embassy Boulevard and Parliament Way, his guts leaping and churning with nerves. The two once elegant streets lined with handsome buildings now were almost impassable with piles of bricks, stone and wood. Some had lost their facades due to tank or cannon fire, so each floor was exposed like startled spinsters surprised while bathing. Still others were on fire and thick black smoke curled into the air, causing a premature dusk in Central. The last time he'd been in such a pitched urban battle, the Armed Forces of Amestris were the aggressor in Ishbal. Now they were making a final, desperate stand in the middle of their capitol city. He heard the tanks coming long before they even came into sight, the clanking and squeaking sounds made him want to turn and run, but he stood his ground.

The air around him was thick with the sounds of battle. Smoke from explosions and tiny fragments of burning buildings filled the air, which also smelled of the ozony aftertaste of alchemic reactions. Grumman played his troops like they were chess pieces, some to protect important buildings like Roy's platoon, others to safeguard evacuation routes as citizens were still fleeing north, west, and south. State alchemists were positioned in strategic places all around the city, the best combat alchemists placed on the roof of the tallest buildings in Central. Tall steel antennas were also planted in clusters of three on these roofs; arrays were drawn around them and activated when the enemy planes made their first bombing runs over the city. It took some trial and error because the triangulations had to fine tuned, but on the second pass, a crackling arc shot skywards to hit one plane and bring it down. It crashed into the eastern suburbs and sent up a gigantic fireball that dazzled the eye.

Two more planes were shot from the sky, and a monstrous hand formed to actually reach up, grab, and pull a fourth one down with a shriek of crushed metal. The troops cheered loudly each time, but that was the extent of the defender's victories because the invaders finally deployed the Puppet and his bite was sharp. Roy had to admire the strength of the mature Edward's alchemy. Unburdened by any conscious thought, gigantic roaring bursts of red, yellow and blue light writhed through the air, collapsing buildings, flattening tanks and sending soldiers fleeing in panic. His power was immense and frightening but it was almost out of control and couldn't last.

Roy and the troops under his command fought back as best they could. The men and women hiding behind sandbags picked their targets carefully and mowed enemy soldiers down with massed fire. He snapped his fingers until they throbbed with pain, even when he alternated hands for each reaction. Enemy tanks blew apart like moving shrapnel bombs which mowed down the German soldiers shielding behind them. Grumman had given Roy command of a platoon and he moved them like he was playing a particularly brutal chess match of his own. Once the enemy was weakened enough, Roy would order them to fix bayonets and charge in for hand-to-hand combat. Until then, they stayed behind their burlap ramparts because Roy couldn't afford to waste even a single soldier. He drew his own pistol and carefully picked his shots to bring down officers. Once a bullet tore through the left sleeve of his uniform, the force knocking him sideways, and sending the pistol spinning end over end through the air. He examined the hole with one finger, it was a clean through and through which barely nicked his skin.

Roy winced slightly when a searching digit brushed the sore spot and shot an urgent pain signal to his brain. He pulled his hand back and looked at the tiny dot of blood before he rubbed his fingers together to smear it and add more stains to his gloves. Then he turned smoothly back to the enemy and snapped those fingers in one motion, a massive wall of fire erupted and a squad of German soldiers went up like screaming Roman candles. Blood intensified the strength of alchemic reactions, but it also tired him out and Roy could feel he was nearing the end of his rope. He could maybe summon another few snaps before he would need to rest.

But that was okay because Edward was tiring faster. Eckart and her Puppet had halted fifty yards from Roy's position, with a German tank platoon just behind them. He could see Edward's strength was fading fast, when he walked, he staggered more diagonally than forward, like a drunken sailor. Edward finally stumbled, overbalanced, and fell to his knees when Eckart yanked too hard on the leash. He crouched there and gasped for breath while sweat poured off his face, dripping like light rain. His struggles to stand up in response to more tugs on the leash filled Roy with pity for his former subordinate. But if he couldn't be halted by normal means, Grumman had ordered Roy to put his feelings aside and do what was best to protect Central. All he had to do was point and one of the strategically positioned snipers would end Edward's life with a single gunshot to the head.

But Roy hesitated to give the pre-arranged signal. He remembered the bright and curious child with the actively searching mind; it seemed so cruel not to make an attempt to save him, to just give up on the younger man. Yet, sentiment, sympathy, and mercy had no place on a battlefield; Edward Elric was a threat who must be eliminated. Roy narrowed his eyes, knitting scorched eyebrows so hard in concentration his vision blurred:

_Snap out of it, Fullmetal! That is an order!_

Roy held his breath for several seconds too long when Edward's left hand came up and began to explore the collar around his neck. Spots began to dance before his eyes until he remembered to puff out the used air and take another breath. It smelled foul and tasted of ash, but the spots slowly faded and vanished. _That's it, Fullmetal! Wake up! Wake up and remember who you are! _

Eckart tugged even harder on the leash and Roy would never forget the sudden change in Edward's expression. The blank slate shattered and Edward's face was alive again, teeth clenched in a soundless snarl and his yellow eyes blazed with hot anger like heat shimmers over the baking macadam.

Roy snapped his fingers to help him get free, and a tongue of flame shot out to burn through the leash, the umbilical cord which connected Edward to Eckart. Both of them fell backwards, he couldn't see Edward's expression, but the woman was very surprised. His legs moved without his conscious thought and suddenly he was only inches from his enemy. Rage crackled from her like a living thing, and she said something in the strange guttural language. Roy didn't understand it but the tone made it sound like she'd just insulted his manhood or something. Then she pulled a pistol from a pocket in her gaudy uniform. Without him consciously thinking about it, Roy's right hand came up, fingers poised just inches from her nose, and then a dead silence fell around them.

He was so close he could see her blue eyes were really quite pretty despite the crow's feet angling away from the corners, and the dark, bruised skin bagging beneath them. Roy could smell sweat, smoke, blood, and fury, and no doubt she could smell his own anger. Each was still for the moment, but the center could not hold, one of them had to crack eventually.

In the end, Edward made the first move.

Roy dimly heard the slap, then the ground rumbled and he smelled the rising ozone levels as tendrils of red colored alchemic energy snapped and crackled through the air. The road began to melt up before massive spikes shot skywards, either impaling the German tanks behind Eckart or flipping them over like they were toys. They moved almost gracefully through the air with exquisite slowness before coming down and crushing any soldiers unlucky enough to be underneath. Roy heard their screams and then the crunch of their crushed bones beneath shrieks of collapsing metal. He flicked his gaze rightwards and saw Edward slump to the shattered macadam, his body relaxing into unconsciousness as sheer exhaustion finally got the better of him.

Eckart fired and Roy grunted in pain when the bullet tore through his side before he took one large step forward. He grabbed her wrist and tightened his grip, his teeth gritted against the painof his wound before he twisted hard, bone bent and ligaments yielded. Eckart screamed in defiance, but loosened her grip on the pistol and Roy wrenched it away from her.

He pointed the still smoking barrel right between her eyes and snarled in a voice thick with pain and anger, "Dietlinde Eckart, in the name of the Armed Forces, and the Parliament of Amestris, I order you to put up your hands, you are my prisoner!"

Her face twisted with rage and pain, Eckart held her sprained wrist with the other hand and glared daggers at him. She spat in his face and Roy smiled grimly,somehow he expected that reaction. What he didn't expect was her turning away and fleeing while shouting orders in her language. She took one, then two steps toward a surviving German soldier, her good hand reaching for his rifle.

Somewhere high above and behind Roy, a gunshot snapped like breaking glass and the back of Eckart's head exploded in a flurry of blood and brain matter. She stopped, swayed, and then crumpled gracefully to the ground, the soldier also falling as if he was merely going to sleep. The shot from a high-powered sniper rifle must have been another "through and through". Roy twisted around, shielded his eyes from the shrouded sun, and looked at the anonymous office towers behind him. Somewhere above,"the eye of the Hawk" watched over him from one of those high aeries, and Roy smiled in spite of the situation.

The death of Dietlinde Eckart seemed to confuse the German soldiers; some dropped their rifles and fled while the rest milled about uncertainly. Roy took advantage of their bewilderment to turn to the troops he commanded and bellow an order: "Company B, fix bayonets! CHARGE!"

They hastened to obey him, scrambling like eager, bloodthirsty puppies over the sandbags. Their bayonets glinting like revenge, a veritable stream of men and women raced past on either side, as battle cries came roaring from their throats. Unknown to Roy, soldiers who'd retreated from other positions in Central had heard the Flame Alchemist was here and heartened, they'd come to swell the ranks of the platoon to the size of a regiment. Now this new force was in full attack mode and they fell upon the Germans like wolves, gleaming metal dipping down and coming back up, the bayonet ends dripping red with blood.

Roy looked for Edward but he couldn't see him, and he began to force his way through the mob of rushing bodies. He saw an occasional glimpse of brown or yellow, and feared Fullmetal might get trampled in the stampede. It seemed to take forever until he was able to get a clear view, and he rushed forward only to pull up short after just a few strides.

Someone else had beaten him to Edward. A teenage boy who looked to be fifteen or sixteen years of age knelt amid piles of rubble and hauled the limp body into his arms. He had long hair the color of warm caramel pulled back into a ponytai1, several strands had come loose and hung down, plastered with sweat. He looked up at Roy with large dark brown eyes which shone with excitement, yet were also darkened by mental anguish. His face was rounder than Edward's but the determined set of his chin bore a remarkable resemblance to a certain subordinate whose jaw once jutted out in the same manner.

Roy felt a grin begin to pull its way across his face. _He's an Elric, all right_.

The boy had to be Alphonse and Roy thought he was a handsome kid. This kid looked up at Roy with a mixture of apprehension and the sheer cussed stubbornness Edward once displayed so flagrantly. Back when he'd just been a soul bound to a suit of armor, Alphonse was kindness in a can, but more than once he'd flashed steel inside that velvet glove. Once affairs had settled down and Edward had recovered, perhaps Roy could persuade Alphonse to join the military as a State Alchemist.

A sudden wave of fatigue shot through him just then, and Roy couldn't stand up any longer, so he dropped to his knees in front of the pair. The wound in his side throbbed like fire, but he couldn't seem to stop grinning. Maybe he should sober up now because Alphonse tightened his grip on Edward and shot a very suspicious glare at Roy. Bloodcurdling screams and yells still split the air because the fighting wasn't over, and here he was, smiling like the village idiot.

Edward Elric was back, and everything was going to be all right.


	76. War Is Hell

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA, except for OCs I've created. I just like to play around in its world and torture Ed for a while.

**Summary:** Last chapter dealt with the POVs of Edward as his mind finally broke free of the Puppetmaster drug; and Roy when he went toe-to-toe with Dietlinde Eckart. This chapter will follow Alfons Heidreich after he and Alphonse become seperated in the chaos of the Battle of Central.

**Warnings:** More violence and death that isn't good for children and other living things.

**The world's best beta because she puts up with me: **Took-baggins

_Chapter 76__:_ War Is Hell (Krieg ist der Holle)

Dietlinde Eckart watched in disbelief as the first plane went down, and she continued to stare at the dissipating trail of black smoke even after it disappeared behind some tall buildings. A massive fireball erupted soon after, red and orange flames rising into a dark cloud like a funeral pall that rose high into the overcast sky over Central. To everyone's surprise, her face rearranged itself into a mask of grief and pain when she finally whirled around and screamed for _Grupenfuhrer_ Bauer, but her orders shocked even that veteran soldier.

Her voice was still ringing in the hot and humid air as Bauer and the other field commanders turned to look at Adolf Hitler himself, who stood ramrod straight in full dress uniform between Himmler and Goebbels. Those two sweated like pigs and mopped their faces with big white handkerchiefs, the lenses of Himmler's glasses kept fogging up, but Hitler didn't appear to be affected by the heat. He stayed perfectly still, his face unreadable for one, then two agonizing moments before he nodded in a barely perceptible movement. The silence snapped like a rubber band stretched to the breaking point, and Bauer, his stomach churning and skin crawling, repeated the orders to Sergeant Willi Braun. That loyal soldier and others stared at him in astonishment because this didn't seem to be happening.

Their eyes caught and held for perhaps thirty seconds before Braun shot his arm skyward, "Jah wohl, Grupenfuhrer! Heil Hitler!", then he turned smartly and bawled instructions to the troops who guarded the prisoners.

Even with the German army bearing down upon them, some of the more independent-minded citizens of Central hadn't heeded the official pleadings to evacuate, but instead stayed in their homes. On this morning, they'd gone about their daily routine of taking their children to school, going to work, or commencing normal household chores. They were easily rounded up after the initial skirmishing forces had gone by.

A group of perhaps sixty people - sullen men, frightened women, and crying children - either stood or sat on the sidewalk outside the tall brick walls of an elementary school. The adults were mostly quiet but for a few women weeping or shushing their offspring. Alarmed cries erupted after ten men were culled out and forced by rifle - toting soldiers to stand in a ragged line against the wall a few feet away. Several women began to scream "NO!" when those soldiers backed up a few feet and formed a firing squad. Other soldiers moved forward to contain a few women who tried to run over to their husbands, one woman dodged past and actually stood defiantly in front of the men, her arms spread out as if she could protect them from the bullets. But she dissolved into tears after one large soldier scooped her into his arms and carried her back to the main group of hostages. She kicked and screamed lustily in protest, and didn't stop until struck hard in the stomach with a rifle butt. Then, she folded like a paper doll and lay on her side, sobbing, on the sidewalk. Two other women tried to comfort her while their eyes raked the soldiers with hard glares.

"Ready, aim, FIRE!" Sergeant Braun yelled the words in quick succession; ten rifles spit death almost at the same time and ten men slumped, lifeless, to the ground. Blood pooled around them and ran across the sidewalk to the gutter, and a small rivulet of blood began to snake towards the nearest drain. Women screamed hysterically, some fainted and children wailed "Daddy!" in thin, high voices full of fear and grief. Eckart looked at the chaotic scene with grim satisfaction, Bauer and the majority of the field commanders just wanted to puke, while the troops of the German army combined with the Thule forces wisely kept their faces blank and opinions to themselves.

Both Himmler and Goebbels looked elated by the sight, "Who knows how many of them were Jews, my Fuhrer."

Himmler hastened to agree. "This world will give Germany miles of the elbow room it needs! If we must sweep away some of these Shambalans, so be it!"

Hitler said nothing, but the left corner of his mouth twitched ever so slightly before his face resumed its usual blank expression.

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Edward jerked suddenly, as if he was startled by the gunfire, and pulled back hard, nearly yanking a surprised Alphonse off his feet. He grabbed the leash with both hands and held on tightly to his restless brother who skipped sideways and back, like a nervous horse.

His yellow eyes gleamed with a wild light, and he tossed his head, sending his long ponytail fluttering, before he settled down and the light faded away to be replaced by his usual blank stare. Alphonse gripped the leash tightly in his left hand and moved closer to his brother, who suddenly pulled away. He followed Edward who kept backing up, like a balky dog who suddenly decided he didn't like to be leashed.

"It's all right, brother, shhh, calm down." Alphonse whispered _sotto voce_, and flicked his brown eyes back to see if anyone noticed Edward's sudden _alertness_. Heidriech had been standing next to him, but he abruptly went over to a parked staff car where he climbed into the front seat and then cautiously stepped over the front windshield and onto the hood. He was there for only a moment before he jumped down and walked back over to Alphonse, his face white as paper, and his mouth working as he apparently muttered curse words in German under his breath.

"Heidreich? What's going on? What's..." Alphonse's voice trailed away in an uncertain manner after Heidreich simply brushed past him and walked determinedly over to the far side of the street. Here he bent over, hands on knees, and neatly vomited his breakfast on to a concrete gutter, Heidreich coughed a few times, spat and then crouched down, his head held between his hands as if he was trying to keep it from flying off. His shoulders were shaking hard and regularly, and it took Alphonse a few beats to realize his friend was crying.

_What was going on?_ Alphonse couldn't see over or around the massed ranks of soldiers, he only knew hostages were taken. When they arrived, he'd seen small groups of people, usually families, herded along the street by soldiers. Mothers led children by the hand or carried them awkwardly; the youngsters were confused and frightened. They were sleepy or hungry, perhaps both, and let their parents know they were displeased with crying and tantrums. Many of the mothers were in tears themselves and that bothered Alphonse because he hated to see women cry. He rubbed Edward's back with one hand and whispered softly into one ear to calm him, because he was terrified his brother would choose this very moment to wake up.

"_Grupenfuhrer_! Shoot ten more!" Eckart's order hung in the warm air like a dark cloud before the wind blew it apart.

Yet more screams erupted and a flock of pigeons took off from the schools bell tower and scattered into the air after the second round of gunshots sounded. They flew distractedly around in a large circle three times before seeking shelter in the tower again. Hawks hunted this area and they found rich pickings among the local population of pigeons. Alphonse looked up, shading his eyes from the morning sun and he saw one, circling impossibly high in the air as it searched for breakfast; he was growing dizzy looking at it when the third group of ten hostages was shot. The pigeons bolted from their safe haven and the hawk paused before it suddenly dove straight down like a stone dropped from a cliff. The flock blew apart when the raptor struck, and the hawk pulled up, something struggling in its talons.

As if nothing had happened, the flock re-formed and went back to the tower, but they apparently hadn't learned any lesson from their encounter with the hawk. A final group was executed in revenge for the fourth downed plane, and another pigeon was taken by another hawk.

Alphonse still couldn't see what was going on, although he had a solid grasp on an idea by now. Heidreich had stopped crying and he'd sat down in the staff car, the skin around his eyes was pulled tight with tension, with a pale grey tone to it. His lips were bloodless and drawn so thin they could hardly be seen. Alphonse wanted badly to say something to him, to make him feel better, and he made a slight movement in his direction. Heidreich glanced up between his eyelashes when Alphonse's shoe scraped the pavement and something; some kind of _warning_ in his blue eyes stopped the boy in his tracks. His throat closed over the words he was going to say and they remained unuttered.

Something seemed to be happening with the groups of soldiers, sergeants bawled orders and marched them away in well trained formations. Eventually, Hess came stalking over, shouting for the Puppet; Alphonse gulped, ducked his head and held out the leash to him. Hess treated Edward as roughly as before, yanking hard on the leash so Edward had to step out smartly or fall to his knees. Hess didn't even acknowledge Alphonse who kept his face down, a good idea because his usually soft brown eyes were hot and hard with anger.

In a short while, the street was empty of people except a detachment of soldiers who guarded the surviving hostages. The former stood around and spoke light-heartedly, handing around lit cigarettes like they'd just finished a hard day of honest work, instead of murdering forty innocent people. Any fight had gone out of the hostages, they sat in a small circle, and some of the children were wailing "Daddy! Daddy!", in high-pitched, grief-stricken voices. Alphonse's throat tightened up and his own eyes filled with tears until they overflowed and spilled down his cheeks. The bodies of the first thirty executed had been hauled to the side and piled up in a heap, blood ran from it in several small rivulets.

But the bodies of the final ten still lay where they'd fallen and added more sheets of blood to color the sidewalk a garish red. Alphonse made the mistake of looking and he saw two women had been shot, apparently the Thulists had run out of men to force before the firing squad. Such cruelty made him sick.

Gorge rushed up his throat like an express train, so fast he barely had time to fall to his knees and give his all on to the macadam. Some spattered on his hands, but Alphonse didn't care overmuch. He dug his fingers into the macadam, fingernails splintered, and knuckles scraped till they bled while he cried, his body shuddering with each convulsion. He continued to cry even after Heidreich knelt down beside him. "Come on, Alphonse." He stood up ever so slowly and held his _doppelganger_ close, muffling the boy's sobs in his shirt which quickly became wet. Some of the soldiers were laughing at them, so Heidreich just scowled and slowly walked away, guiding Alphonse to the opposite sidewalk.

Before either realized it, they were a block away, and then two blocks. His heart hammered painfully between his ribs with enough force to make his entire body vibrate, any minute now, he expected soldiers to come looking for them, but no one did. Then he turned a corner and was out of their sight.

"Hei - Heidrech. Thank - thank you." Tears still leaked from Alphonse's eyes, he sniffed and dashed some off his cheeks with skinned knuckles.

"Thank you for what, Alphonse?" Heidrech was confused by Alphonse's half-smile. After being flogged and bullied, and now seeing his countrymen and women slaughtered, Heidreich was sure the boy had to hate him by now.

"Even though you are German, Heidrech, I don't hate you." His _doppelganger_ was reading his mind, his words anticipating Heidreich's thoughts. "I can't hate you. Because you aren't an invader, but an inventor; a seeker not for riches, but for knowledge. If you were in charge, you would come in the spirit of friendship, and you've been a great friend to me. No matter what happens today, I will stand by you."

"Alphonse, you would do that?" Heidreich was touched to his core, his lips trembled, and he blinked rapidly to keep away the tears which threatened at the corners of his eyes. He was a man and it was time to stop crying and take action, because that is what men did. He looked up and down the unfamiliar suburban street, jerking when an explosion sounded about a mile away. They'd somehow managed to wander from the custody of the Thule army and he, at least, was utterly lost.

"Alphonse, do you know where we are?"

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Three hours later, Heidreich had become seperated from Alphonse and he wandered mostly alone through the city center. The occasional explosion still shook the ground and he heard the odd burst of alchemic energy, but the fighting had settled down to grim house-to-house skirmishes. Gunshots rang out almost constantly, but they always appeared to be a street over from where he was. This was fine with Heidreich because he was an inventor, not a fighter.

His _doppelganger _was very anxious about the Puppet and he'd finally just looked Heidreich in the eye and bluntly announced his intention to go find him. "The Thulists won't look after Brother, they'll just drive him to exhaustion; and when that happens, I want to be there to protect him."

Heidreich was himself worried about Alphonse, but he understood the boy's feelings, the sibling bond was too strong for him to fight. "It's just that - please be careful, Alphonse." His _doppelganger_ nodded, his lips fixed in a compressed line and his brown eyes focused; then he spun on one heel and was gone. Just like that, Heidreich was alone on the battlefield.

He was hot, tired, and thirsty after wandering around the dreamscape of the shattered city, most of the buildings were still standing, but all the windows were blown out or the doors smashed down. Some had lost their roofs or their facades, or they were just mounds of smoking rubble after shells had set them on fire. He turned another random corner that looked so much like the one he'd turned before, Heidreich suspected he was just walking in circles; his feet ached so badly he was absolutely sure blisters were forming on toes and heels. He could hear something spattering and around yet another pile of rubble, he discovered a broken fire hydrant sending a large gout of water into the air.

Heidreich moved to stand underneath it and he was soaked through before long, but the water cooled him down. After a bit, he opened his mouth like a bird and let water fill it before he swallowed. Central water tasted mighty good and he drank his fill of it,enjoying the feel of it dissolving the cotton in his mouth. Then he cupped some in his hands before he rubbed it over his face to refresh his eyes. Heidreich repeated this action several times until all the grit was washed away. He left his impromptu shower with great reluctance, clothes sticking to his skin, feet squelching along in wet shoes.

After he'd limped along for another half hour, he stopped when he heard a number of voices speaking. Heidreich ducked behind a half broken wall and listened. A group of perhaps four or five people were speaking his language, German. From other sounds also heard, he deduced they were urinating on the other side of the wall. His heart began to hammer painfully against his ribs, and he crouched there, afraid someone would look over and see him. His suddenly dry throat began to tickle and Heidreich clapped one hand over his mouth and fought with a strong urge to cough.

Fortunately, his luck held and the men moved away, talking about unimportant things. Heidreich peeked cautiously over the crumblings bricks and what he saw made the blood rush through his body with enough force to make him feel faint. Seven rocket ships stood in a grassy area, it looked like it once had been a park, but the grass was churned up into muddy furrows. The largest of the group was a troop transport, painted gray, its side and the nose area bore large black swastikas, like thick angular slashes of shame, on red backgrounds circled with neat black lines. The other ships were the smaller one-seater jets, their outer skins also decorated - or - marred - with swastikas. Their graceful swept-back wings bore further modifications of machine gun mounts and bomb cradles.

Rage bubbled and fizzed like soda pop in Heidreich's veins, Eckart had lied to him about plans for the rockets he'd built. He originally wanted them to be reserved for strictly scientific purposes of exploration and gathering knowledge. Perhaps, in time to come, they agreed the rocket ships could be put to commercial uses, like swift transport of goods and passengers between nations. Worldwide trade would explode, she assured him, and with that expansion would come more money for the research of his ultimate goal: a rocket that could carry measuring and recording instrutments, and eventually people, into space.

At the back of his mind, Heidriech had suspected someone would want to turn his rockets into war machines, but he'd always thought he and the other _racketan_ could keep enough control to forestall that. _So much for noble ideals_, he thought bitterly, _they are no match for baser human instincts. _A stray thought swam into his conscious thoughts which whirled around like water around an open drain. He'd designed and built the rocket that powered this particular ship. Once others had perverted his dream, he had the right, no, the duty to destroy it. Yes, Heidreich nodded to himself, he would end this here and now.

All he needed was a wrench and a few minutes alone with the engine.

Heidreich crept around the end of the wall and looked cautiously left and right. He saw two groups of armed men at either end, and assumed two more groups guarded the far side of the park. Despite being in the middle of a war zone, they were complacent and entirely too casual about guarding the air ships. Their loss and his gain, Heidreich eyed the amount of open space between him and his target, too far to sprint, plus the torn-up condition of the ground virtually guaranteed he would turn an ankle and fall.

The only strategy Heidreich could think of was to walk slowly up and if challenged, brazen it out and hope the soldiers knew who he was. He straightened up, put his hands in his pockets and strolled slowly over to the closet rocket ship. No one shouted "HALT", nor challenged him to show his papers, which was a good thing because Heidreich had no papers. He stood shock still next to the front wheel of the ship and tried to calm the pounding of his heart before he proceeded.

It was so easy, Heidreich was aboard the transport before he realized it. This rocket ships interior was different, once it was just a bare cargo bay, now twelve rows of seats upholstered in grey cloth embroidered with swastikas on red backgrounds were bolted to the floor. Behind them was a long wooden table and chairs, also securely bolted down. A map of the country they'd invaded was pinned to a wooden frame attached to the side of the craft, Hitler's War Room in the air.

A murmur of voices came from the cockpit area, from his vantage point just inside the entry hatch, he saw the silhouettes of two men and guessed they were the pilot and co-pilot. The rest of the transport was quiet and Heidreich went right to one of the built-in tool bins where he found just what he needed. A maintenance trapdoor that led down to the engine compartment was open, and he descended the ladder as quietly as he could, but he froze just as his feet touched the floor.

Someone else was already here, he could hear a low-pitched, tuneless humming accompanied by the occasional clanging sound. Heidreich crept around the great engine while he absentmindedly patted it with his free hand. This nondescript piece of machinery was his baby, his brain had conceived of it, his hands drew its specifications and machined the components. His friends in the _Racketan Klub_ helped him assemble it, but he, Alfons Wilhelm Frederick Klaus Heidreich was its father. He'd brought it into the world and now he was going to take it out.

He came around the last corner and here his luck turned as the man looked up and saw him, his face blanching slightly with surprise. "Who are you and what are you doing here?" He stood up and held his own wrench in front of him, as if for protection. "Stay where you are!"

Heidreich gave the man his most dazzling smile and held both hands with their palms up to show they were empty and he meant no harm. "Sorry to startle you, I am Alfons Heidreich, and I invented these rockets, perhaps Fraulein Eckart told you about me?" The other man's suspicious expression told Heidreich she hadn't and he improvised quickly. "Well, she gave me permission to inspect all the engines and make sure they are in top condition."

"I'm the head engineer and she never said anything about you." He backed away one step and then another. Heidreich, his smile now a grimace, took two steps forward.

"As a matter of fact, I was told these engines were the idea of our glorious Fuhrer," the technician's face turned dead white when Heidreich bared his teeth. "He has lots of great ideas and he's going to lead the German people to glory, starting with getting rid of of those damn Jews who are sucking our blood like vampires, and, uh." He was talking too fast, the words stumbling like drunken men because he was really quite afraid of this Heidreich person who's eyes glowed like blue fire.

In one massive burst of panic, he threw his wrench at Heidreich and bolted for a small hatch at the back of the ship. But his toss was wild and Heidreich ducked it easily. Growling with anger, he shot after the man, pulled out the wrench he'd hidden in the waistband of his trousers and raised it over his head before he lashed once at the other man's head.

The very end of the wrench connected with the top of the skull with a dull thump and the man staggered. Yet he didn't go down, this was only a temporary loss of momentum and he took another stride to resume his flight, but it was too late. Heidreich swung the wrench again and the man went down with a heavy thump. He didn't rise again, but Heidreich hit him twice more, just to be sure. He was gonig to preoccupied for a few minutes and he didn't want or need any surprises while he sabotaged the engine. He rolled up his sleeves and got right to work, and the job was done in twenty minutes.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Heidreich straightened up and winced as his back protested, so he fisted his hands and set them at the small of his back and bent further backwards. Small cracking noises sounded and the engineer groaned once. His hands were filthy and he wiped them absentmindly on his shirt before he found a rag the other man had dropped. He rubbed them on the well worn material and some more grease and oil came off, but it was ground into the flesh and stuck beneath his fingernails. The other man lay still where he'd fallen, his sides didn't seem to be moving and Heidreich had a feeling he'd killed him. _Oh well_, his brain said with a mental shrug.

Oh, well indeed, his shirt was also a lost cause, just like Germany's invasion of the alchemic world. Heidreich smiled grimly to himself when he realized he'd come to this conclusion so easily. He no longer wished to kill the Puppet, no wait, it wasn't proper to call him "Puppet" any more. His name was Edward Elric and he was the older brother of Alphonse, his _doppelganger_ and friend. He would stay in this alien world, this country called "Amestris" and he would start his life all over again. He would design and build more rockets, better than before, that is what he would do. This knowledge both exhilarated and terrified Heidreich. Because of his illness he believed he didn't have a future and hadn't given it much thought.

He was walking slowly down the gangplank of the ship when all hell broke loose at the far end of the park. Two staff cars came barreling down the street, across the churned up ground and skidded to s simultaneous stop, sending chunks of mud flying. At the sight of them, the guards who were supposed to be watching the ships threw their cigarettes down and came running on the double to form a protective ring about the vehicles. Himmler and Goebbels practically fell out of the first car on one side, while a soldier ran up, saluted, and opened a door on the other for Hitler to alight.

His inner circle was scared to death, babbling nervously in fear while wide eyes stared out of pale faces. But Hitler must have had ice water in his veins, he stared imperiously around before he stepped down and walked with a determined, yet not panicked stride toward the jet, now made into his personal transport. His head was up and he looked forward, never behind him like the others did. Even in retreat, Adolf Hitler would continue to act like a true born leader, but he stopped when he saw Heidreich standing on the gangplank and glaring at him. The others stopped awkwardly and stood in an untidy group, gaping at the young man.

This strange face confused him, and Heidriech decided to introduce himself, he bowed low and and murmured, "A pleasure to meet you, _mein Fuhrer_. My name is Alfons Heidreich and I invented and designed these rocket ships." Hitler said nothing, he was playing it cool and he nodded back, as if sensing the dangerous edge to Heidreich's mood. "The battle is lost, isn't it, _mein Fuhrer_? And now you are running back to Germany to salvage your _other_ war, aren't you?"

Hitler jerked ever so slightly and his mouth tightened a little more until it was just a slightly reddened horizontal slash in his mask-like face. Heidriech advanced a step, and glared at the man he once admired with all the force of his hatred. "Once upon a time, all I wanted was to build rockets, rockets to show the world what the great minds in Germany were capable of. I have an illness that makes me cough up blood and I don't know how much longer I have to live. So, I wanted to make my fellow Germans proud, so they would remember me, even long after I am laid to rest. A man doesn't like to be forgotten, _mein Fuhrer_, isn't that right?"

Hitler couldn't argue with that and he spoke for the first time, "Jah, that is correct, Herr Heidreich, that is -"

Then Hitler resumed his silence, which Heidreich thought was odd, so odd it was almost funny. The Great Orator, the author of all those fiery speeches in the _Reichstag_, was finally struck dumb. That night Eckart had ordered him to take off and rest, his friends had prevailed on him to visit a movie theater. Short films of current events were shown before the feature began and one of them was of Hitler speaking in a sports stadium. Hitler drove himself into a frenzy in his speech, he pounded the podium while his lank hair whipped around and some theater patrons were so excited, they stood up on their seats, making the Nazi salute and shouting "Heil, Hitler!" at the tops of their lungs. Girls stood on their seats, crying while they yelled, and most of the boys and men were also in tears, carried away by the force of their patriotism and pride.

The older theater patrons were too dignified to stand up, but not too stiff to also make the salute and call out loyalty to the Fuhrer. Heidreich was bored stiff by the whole affair, but in case anyone was watching, he and the other _Racketan_ made desultory salutes and moved their mouths in lip sync of the general uproar. The movie finally began and it was a total snore, a romance between two pure-blooded Aryans with a brief threat from so over-the-top stereotypical Jews some people openly laughed. There were no rockets in it which he thought would have enlivened the movie considerably. But except for the brief appearance of a steam engine in a train scene, no machinery was portrayed at all. Heidreich fell fast asleep in his seat and he couldn't be awakened after the theater lights came back up, obliging his friends to carry him home.

The memory made a chuckle bubble up Heidreich's throat and he let it out to crackle through the air, obscene in its disrespect to Hitler. The chuckle became a full on laugh which Hitler watched with weary patience until it was cut off by a sudden coughing fit. Heidreich put one hand over his mouth and tried to muffle it, his lungs convulsed and he bent double until he felt something warm fill his palm and drip between his fingers. When the fit was over, Heidreich looked at the blood with something approaching dismay, he'd hemorrhaged so much the palm of his hand was covered and more dripped between his fingers or down his arm to mingle with the oil and grease to stain his shirt cuffs crimson.

He eyed Hitler through his lashes, "I am sorry, _mein Fuhrer_, but my time is growing shorter and I have one more task left to perform." He reached back with his other hand to produce the wrench. "Stopping you and ending your reign of terror upon the free peoples of two worlds!" But he'd barely raised the wrench to eye level when a single gunshot rang out. Heidreich jerked back, as if he'd been punched very hard in the chest, his blue eyes fixed and wide with shock; and he looked up to see where the shot had come from.

Rudolph Hess stood on the hood of the second staff car, one arm outstretched, with a Luger pistol clutched in his fist, a faint wisp of smoke coming from the end of the black barrel. The very picture of a courageous Nazi officer putting his life on the line to protect his Fuhrer. Almost everyone looked back to beam widely at Hess, but Hitler looked only briefly, and nodded, before he returned his attention to Heidreich.

The wrench slowly eased out of Heidreich's slack grip and fell as if in slow motion to the metal gangplank which it struck with a loud clang, bouncing once and clanging again, like a cracked bell. Heidreich followed suit, dropping to his knees, his upper body jerking with the force. A red flower blossomed on the right side of his chest. It grew larger with each passing second as Heidreich's eyes rolled back into their sockets and his head lolled to his right. WIth a soft groan, Alfons Heidreich pitched sideways off the gangplank to hit the ground with barely a sound. He rolled over on his back and stared sightllessly at the sky, before he blinked once or twice and his eyes refocused. He noticed the sun was burning through the clouds and now he could see an imposter sun, hanging in the sky near the real one.

It was the portal, glowing brightly enough to be seen, and the portal back to a world he would never see again. His ebbing senses barely registered movement around him of many people moving past him and up the gangplank into the rocket ship. The whine as its great main engine and the smaller engines of the escort ships starting up. The gangplank was pulled up and the main entry hatch closed tight as the ship began to roll forwards, the wheels somehow missing Heidreich's prone body. Flames roared from the back of the ship, accelerating it to take-off speed and it soared proudly into the sky, just the way Heidreich had designed it to. The escort jets, which needed even less of a runway were rising into the air alongside it, but as he watched, a red streak of alchemic energy rushed from the top of a nearby building and tore one jet into two pieces.

His vision was starting to grow dim and Heidriech had to fight to keep his eyes open to track the transport as it made a wide, lazy circle to get into position. The engine noise increased in pitch, it needed more speed to get through the portal without being grabbed by the strange black arms other pilots had reported seeing. Three of the remaining six escort rocket ships preceded it into the portal, and then the ship itself began to enter. It was halfway in and Heidreich's vision was getting blurry but even he saw the flash and then heard the explosion as the sabotaged engine tore the transport apart. The outer edges of the blast caught the other two escort rockets and all three rained down mangled pieces of machinery and men. At this height, anyone who managed to survive the initial incident would have a very short and fast trip downwards.

A trip that would end in a very abrupt and fatal impact with the ground. Heidreich smiled cruelly to himself at the thought. He didn't normally take joy in the misfortunes of others, but this time he felt justified. He'd given his life to destroy Hitler and his inner circle. A generous portion of generals and other officers had accompanied their Fuhrer to the alchemic world. Heidreich just hoped it was enough to stop the German war machine in the other world too.

The ground had begun to rumble underneath his feet; like an earthquake was coming somehow Heidreich summoned the energy to turn his head and watch. He stared in bemusement as three tanks, travelling much faster than tanks ought to, thundered into the park, and stopped just short of where he lay. Standing on top of the lead tank, one hand laid gracefully on its massive cannon was the tallest women Heidreich had ever seen. She was at least six feet tall, and had fiery blue eyes that stared forward with deterimination, and full red lips were set in a firm line. Her long blonde hair cascaded down her back and flowed over ample breasts barely contained in a blue uniform. She looked fierce, like an angry she-bear and Heidreich's lips quirked in a smile despite the pain. Even if this world wasn't the fabled Shambala, he'd just seen a living, breathing Valkyrie, big as life and twice as terrible in her beauty.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Major-General Olivia Armstrong looked up at the sky and curled her lip, shaking her head in disgust. Just when she and her troops were having fun, someone had to go and kill the enemy leader before she could get him. Olivia wanted that honor for herself and fantasized about running that ugly man with the weird little mustache through with her sword and watch while the light faded from his eyes. Then she would behead him, the stray dogs of Central could have the body, but she planned to take the head, and mount it on a metal pole. Once things settled down a bit, she would take it to Central Cemetery and stick it in front of the Armstrong family mausoleum as a trophy and an example of her ferocity. Alex would probably throw a hissy fit about it, but that was one of the reasons she wanted to do this, just to piss him off. If he had come to Central to fight the invaders, maybe she would track him down and slap him around a little to burn off her frustration.

The enemy rocket ships had left Armstrong Park a colossal mess, grass churned up, bushes and trees uprooted, walking paths destroyed. She didn't give a damn about parks, they had no strategic value, but her great-great grandfather had donated the land as a living memorial to the Armstrong family. That made it personal and further dampened her mood. One body lay in the muck and she wandered over to look at it, she saw it was a man once she got close enough. He wasn't a bad looking one either, if a bit scrawny for her tastes. Almost the entire right side of his shirt was red with blood, the coppery tang was strong, yet it was mixed with the subtler smells of oil and grease. He must have been an engineer, pity he was dead because he could have been interrogated about those rocket ships. She was about to turn away when a faint groan reached her ears.

A thin line of blue showed at the lower edge of his eyelashes, and his lips moved, he was trying to say something. He was barely clinging to life, yet Olivia sure as hell wasn't going to kneel down in the mud to listen. She jerked her head impatiently at a nearby Briggs soldier, who came over and lifted the man into his arms. The injured man's mouth opened, but no sound came out at first, then he murmured "Tell, tell Alphonse, I am so -sorry." The man swallowed hard and said something in that strange invader language, "_Krieg ist her holle_" before he sighed once and went limp, arms drooping to the ground and head lolling back.

"Poor bastard," the Briggs soldier said softly, he laid Heidriech's body back down with a touching gentleness and crossed his arms over his chest. Major-General Armstrong had merely shrugged at the blond man's dying message, _Who the hell is Alphonse?_ And walked away. In a final act of mercy, the Briggs soldier unwound the white scarf from around his face and draped it over the corpses. He didn't know why he'd worn it in the heat of Central anyways. He leaped back to his feet and went to re-join his comrades as they searched out and eliminated any remaining pockets of invader resistance.


	77. What Came After

**The Waters of Lethe**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA nor any historical characters, just the OCs I've created for this story. I like to play around in its world and torture Ed for a while.

**Beta:** Took-baggins

**Summary:** The invasion of Amestris is over, the battle is won, the enemy driven back and/or destroyed. With Alphonse's help, Edward has broken free of the Puppetmaster drugs grip, although he's collapsed from exhaustion. It's not all beer and skittles through, many innocent people have died, among them Alfons Heidreich who bravely gave his life to stop Hitler. Central is in ruins and night has fallen during the arduous task to rescue the trapped and wounded, and recover the dead. But now that normalcy has apparently returned to this war-torn country, the question on the lips of the main players is: Where do we go from here?

_Chapter 77_ _What Came After_ (Was danach kam)

The weak halo cast by an old oil lamp was all Roy Mustang had to light his way through Ward A of Central Military Hospital Number One. Like all the rest, this ward, the final one he searched, was crowded with patients. Not only with soldiers recovering from wounds received in battle, but also civilians who'd been caught in the crossfire between the Thule Army and the Armed Forces of Amestris. The latter were surrounded by family members who had no where else to go, so they slept on the floor in the clothes they were wearing, small bundles of any earthly possessions they'd been able to recover held close to their bodies.

The entire city was without power as the main power station was the first target to be bombed that morning, and this ward, like all the others, was oppressively dark and hot. A few points of light in the wards and hallways was shed by a motley collection of lamps, lanterns and flashlights wielded by nurses or orderlies, who glided about like ghosts in rubber-soled shoes. They tended patients with quiet whispers, fluffing pillows, offering cups of water, checking intravenous tubes or dispensing medications. Roy had to step carefully to avoid impeding their progress, or stepping on a sleeping body when he stood aside to let hospital personnel proceed.

The muffled hum of gas-powered generators could be felt through the soles of his heavy combat boots, they powered lights and equipment in operating rooms and the intensive care unit on lower floors; plus refrigeration units in the morgue that occupied the hospitals basement. This was one of the good points of Fuhrer Bradley's rule, the military hospitals (the homunculus had believed in having more than one) were scattered about Central and equipped with the latest medical gear, to ride out any national emergency. The wards would ordinarily have lights and air conditioning, but the Prime Minister had ordered all but absolutely essential generators be parceled out among civilian hospitals.

As a result, only the most critical areas had precious power so lives could be saved, or lives lost could be kept in good condition until they were properly buried. _So everyone else gets to stumble around and sweat in the dark_, Roy thought sardonically. He'd been to the intensive care unit only a few minutes ago to check on the condition of Kain Fuery, who'd lost an arm during the battle. The brave young man had recklessly grabbed a German hand grenade that landed in the midst of his unit, with the intent to lob it back. Unfortunately, the fuse had been a bit too short for him to complete the task, and the grenade had gone off early. The blast obliterated Kain's left hand and caused so much damage to the rest of the arm it had to be amputated.

Roy sat next to Kain for half an hour and he watched his former subordinate's chest rise and fall steadily, while he fought with the desire to lie down next to him and sleep like he was heavily sedated too. His eyes felt full of grit and his eyelids were so heavy, keeping them open was a struggle. The left side of Kain's face was bandaged due to residual damage from the blast, but the right side still looked the same, if marred by a few lines. Marks of six years pressed into the pale skin; plus strain from the last few weeks added gravity to that baby face. Once Kain recovered, Roy was determined to take him down to Rush Valley and introduce him to a particular automail mechanic. Even if she hadn't forgiven, and still hated him for killing her parents, Roy Mustang would accept any abuse from her. He only wanted the best for a soldier who'd followed him with unswerving loyalty.

He'd left the intensive care unit to search the wards only ten minutes ago, and already sweat ran down his face to sting his eyes, or down his neck to draw an itchy line that followed the curve of his spine. Hours of sweat soaking into a wool uniform and socks resulted in a potent brew of smelly, unwashed soldier. He wanted so badly to tear his uniform off and take a long, cold shower until his lips turned blue, but the water lines were broken too. Fortunately the wells were uncontaminated, so water was drawn up by buckets and carried by hand to where it was needed. Word had come in that other cities in Amestris were rushing emergency relief trains to Central, but the railroad tracks just outside of the city limits were torn up. The trains would have to stop miles short of their goal and get their supplies offloaded into trucks, so relief wouldn't reach Central until after daybreak.

He stopped at an open window and rested a hip on the sill while he got a breath of fresh air, but immediately regretted it because the air coming in smelled of burning buildings and vehicles; plus he thought his nose detected the faintest sweetness of scorched human flesh. Roy smacked his lips; they felt slightly sticky; of course, that was his doing. He'd burned scores of people alive during the battle, and countless grey piles of ash mixed with bits of charred bone were blowing around the streets because of his Flame Attack. The air was largely still, except when faint breeze kicked up every so often, but it was humid and not very refreshing. But late summer weather in Central was like that, and Roy almost wished he were in East City instead where the air from off the Great Eastern desert was drier, even if it did bring particles of sand with it.

Central Military Hospital Number One was surrounded by a pool of darkness several streets deep, but further away, lights mounted on cranes illuminated shattered buildings for the benefit of rescue squads searching for wounded or trapped survivors. They'd started work at dusk and would be at it all night until relieved by volunteer groups expected to arrive next morning. The streets were in deplorable condition, either blocked by fallen buildings, or mined by deep bomb craters, so the rescue and recovery efforts moved at a snails pace. Roy felt so incredibly weary at the thought of all the work that had to be done, he could have fallen asleep right there. Actually, he did start to nod off, but woke up with a start just before he began to topple forward, right out the window. That wasn't a wise thing to do as he was six stories up, so he reluctantly stood back on his sore feet and groaned when his back spasmed.

He dearly wanted to find a place to lie down and sleep for a few precious hours, but first he had to find Fullmetal and his brother, who were somewhere in this hospital. Roy stepped aside between two beds to let a nurse pass in the narrow corridor; she gave him a tight-lipped glare from a tired face. He inclined his head slightly and answered her with a warm smile, but she simply gave him one more dirty look before moving away in a circle of faint yellow light.

"So much for the famous 'Mustang charm'", he muttered to himself and the hot, still air before he stepped forward and resumed his search.

Roy found the Elric brothers in a small, semi-private room off Ward A. Edward lay curled on his left side with Alphonse on his left, snuggled next to his brother, head against his chest, but the rest of him perilously close to the beds edge. Roy stood very still, holding his breath and just listening to the pair of them breathing in deep and even rhythms. A white sheet pushed down to his waist covered Fullmetal, who wore pale blue hospital-issue pajamas,with a narrow white bandage encircling his neck. Above the bed, a glass bottle hung from a metal stand, a clear plastic tube led from the bottles bottom to Edward's left arm, which was flung out over Alphonse's head, as if protecting him. A matching bottle, its tube clipped up, balanced the stand, and Roy guessed the if the first bottle contained essential fluids, the other was probably used for liquid nutrients.

Edward would be on a strictly liquid diet until he regained consciousness, which might not be for a week or more, depending on how exhausted he was. The fingers of Roy's free hand tightened into a fist, and he didn't realize it until they started aching and he relaxed the muscles with a concentrated effort. Alphonse had taken the best care of Edward he could, but the Thule Army undid all that by using Edward too hard,. He was only a human being, not a machine that just needed a little oil from time to time. Something Edward had once said floated up from the dark recesses of Roys mind to echo in his ears:

_"We're only humans, tiny, insignificant humans; and we couldn't even save one little girl!"_

The words throbbed with the pain and anger of a twelve year old Edward Elric, and other memories of Edward surfaced in quick succession. Roy finally came back to himself with a sharp gasp a few minutes later; he'd actually fallen asleep on his feet while part of his brain played back words and images like his own personal movie theater. Except without a box of hot, buttered popcorn to go with it, and the thought of food made his stomach rumble so hard it hurt. He hadn't eaten since very early that morning when he munched a slice of wheat toast and slurped a cup of lukewarm tea in the pre-dawn darkness. His nerves were so keyed up, he refused the offer of a second piece of toast for fear his overwrought state would make him throw up. Now, Roy's empty stomach was reminding him to regret that action.

The hour was sometime between ten and midnight; since Roy had seen to his troops, he should seek out something to eat and a place to lay his head. But he'd first wanted to scratch the urgent itch to locate the Elric brothers and ensure they were being cared for.

"Sleep tight, you two," he murmured in a sudden burst of paternal tenderness, _where had that come from?_

Major Edward Elric, the Fullmetal was the most difficult subordinate Roy ever had: he talked back, disrespected military protocol, was casual about reporting in, disobeyed orders, lied, kept information from Roy, ran away, and - and - Edward had the absolute worst handwriting Roy had ever seen. Probably the worst in the military - what ever had he seen in this little brat?

Roy sighed and dug out his pocket watch out, then he ran his thumb over the seal on the cover, a sea lion, rampant on the background of a six-pointed alchemy array. He really ought to get it replaced with one bearing the new seal of the Free Republic of Amestris, because this was just a reminder of the bad old days, a military dictatorship run by a tyrant who wasn't even human.

Roy stuck a finger nail underneath the cover and it creaked open reluctantly, its hinges rusted from six years in the freezing North; the glass face bore a hairline fracture, but the watch still functioned. The minute hand ticked away contentedly, while the second hand swept smoothly around the dial. He brought it closer to the lamplight and squinted, trying to bring the numbers into focus, Roy was getting older, and maybe it was time he started wearing glasses. Or maybe just a monocle,and for a moment, he tried to picture himself with one before his lips curled in disgust. General Grumman wore a monocle, and while Roy admired the General's strategic genius, he didn't want to go as far as aping the old fossil. Perhaps he would get one of the new contact lenses, that would be more fitting to the image of Roy Mustang, the dashing ladies man.

A sudden wave of weariness washed over him; it pulled at his mind and made his knees nearly buckle. A wooden chair lurked in one corner of the room and Roy pulled it over, wincing when the legs scraped on the floor with a sound akin to fingernails down a chalkboard. Edward mumbled something in his sleep and Roy froze, mentally cursing himself for waking the younger man up. But Edward merely rearranged his position and he went right back to sleep, snoring softly. Alphonse didn't so much as twitch and Roy sat down with a heavy thump in the chair. The seat was solid wood, hard and unyielding, but Roy was so tired his mind didn't register the twinge in his backside. He was just glad to finally take a load off his feet, he'd been on the move since before dawn and he hadn't gotten much sleep during the previous night.

Roy turned the lamp down to the barest glimmer of light before setting it on the floor next to the chair; darkness rushed in and reclaimed its rightful place. He closed his eyes and it felt so good to do so,_ ten minutes, just ten minutes_, he thought to himself. His chin inched lower and lower until it rested on his chest and before long, his breathing matched that of the Elric brothers.

Despite the heat, his hunger and most of all, despite the awkward postion, in an uncomfortable wooden chair, Roy Mustang fell fast asleep.

* * *

_Five hours earlier..._

"Alphonse?!"

The boy reared back on his haunches and he glared at Roy. His nostrils flared like he was a betrayed horse, and his brown eyes shone cold and hard like water washed pebbles.

"Don't you remember me?"

Alphonse clearly didn't and suspicion turned his usually mobile young face into a surly mask. Roy suspected the antipathy his alchemy teacher, Izumi Curtis, felt for the military had seeped into the boy by some sort of osmosis. If the information in the file was correct, she'd trained him intensely for two years, he was bound to have picked up some of her attitude. Edward shifted and slumped further in his arms and Alphonse moved position to keep a hold on him, grunting slightly with his efforts. The movement brought the smell of burnt leather to Roy's nose and his eye picked out the remains of the leash, the umbilicus that once connected Edward to his captors.

Roy's gaze followed it up to the leather collar that encircled Edward's neck and his fingers itched with the urge to tear it right off. His right arm actually began to reach out on its own, the fingers curving to grab the buckle as he muttered "Alphonse, let me take that collar off your brother."

But he stopped when a peculiar gleam sparked to life in the teen's eyes, a gleam that said he would be lucky to lose only a few fingers if he dared lay hands on Edward. Roy pulled his arm back and then locked eyes with Alphonse's determined gaze, but the boy didn't flinch. Roy sighed with weary resignation, "Alphonse, this isn't going to -"

"STOP CALLING ME BY MY FIRST NAME!" The boy suddenly burst out with the words, that came at full force, like a tidal wave, hitting Roy almost like a physical blow. "You act as if you know me!" Alphonse was clearly angry and struggling to control himself, and find the words he wanted to say. Roy gaped at him in shock and he tried more than once to explain, but Alphonse continued to cut him off. "I've never met you before in my life and - "

Something very large loomed in the fog of smoke behind the boy and for a brief moment, Roy feared it was a Thule soldier as a human figure became distinct. He was too tired to snap his fingers or even raise the pistol he'd taken from Eckart, and the knowledge he couldn't protect the brothers ran through his guts like cold water. Yet he relaxed almost instantly, his tense muscles eased in relief when the newcomer's size became more obvious. No one else could be that big, or clear his throat quite that loudly.

"ALPHONSE ELRIC!" The voice thundered like a storm gods, and Roy barely heard Alphonse's startled yelp of fear. "DON'T BE RUDE TO YOUR ELDERS!!"

Alex Louis Armstrong had come to Roy's rescue; and Alphonse's face paled several shade. Roy suspected he'd already met Armstrong, and been on the receiving end of a spine-crushing hug. He wanted to melt into the ground and hide too. Alphonse didn't turn his head, but he flicked his eyes right and they looked like black pits in his fear-stricken face. The ground shook with the big man's footfalls; pink sparkles danced like gleeful demons doing the cha-cha as Armstrong approached and then went down on one knee next to the boy. The former Strong Arm Alchemist ( although he'd given up his State Alchemist title, Roy still thought of him by that name) was shirtless, his massive muscles throbbing. His skin was blackened with dirt and soot, he had a few cuts on his arms and one on his bald head trickled blood, but Alex was largely unscathed.

"Alphonse". Alex said it gently, but his low pitched voice still sounded like the grumble of an approaching thunderstorm. "I can personally vouch for the character of this man. Roy Mustang was my superior officer at one time and he never once gave me reason to doubt my loyalty to him." Alex smiled just then and those blindingly white square teeth made even Roy feel a bit faint. "His sanity sometimes, but never my loyalty."

Alphonse gulped hard, but shook his head when Alex coaxed, "Let him remove that collar."

Edward moaned softly just then, his unconscious body was a dead weight and Alphonse was having a great deal of trouble holding on to him. He flashed one more glare at Roy before his expression softened and he nodded reluctantly. "Thank you, Alphonse," Roy muttered as he inched closer on his knees to the pair and reached for the collar again. Roy laid two fingers along the side of Edward's neck and felt for his pulse, it was weak, but it beat steadily. Even underneath a light coating of dirt, Edward's skin was very pale,and waxy looking. He'd given his last shreds of strength to help stop the advance of the Thule tanks, and Roy felt a surge of gratitude towards the boy.

No, that wasn't right. Roy studied Edward's face, strained with exhaustion it may be, but his features had definately left the roundness of childhood behind. He was a man now, longer of torso and limbs, and Roy performed a quick mental calculation. Edward was sixteen when he disappeared six years ago, so he was twenty-two, a legal adult under Amestrian law. Alphonse made a soft sound deep in his throat, a sound Roy interpreted as impatience or even irritation. _Get that damn collar off - NOW!_

Roy's long fingers moved nimbly on the buckle, it opened easily, but the collar didn't fall away like he expected. He pulled gently at the leather but the skin appeared to be stuck to it. He held his breath and gently, and in fits and starts, he carefully peeled the leather away. The lambswool lining the inside was matted with sweat and dirt, and much to Roy's shock, a few tiny pieces of the uppermost skin layer came off with it. The skin beneath was irritated and puffy, red patches showing where the neck was rubbed raw. Roy noticed Alphonse's eyes were locked on to the collar as if the force of his gaze alone could set it on fire, and even Roy glared at the sinple piece of leather in disgust before he flung it away with a flick of his wrist. It clacked very softly upon landing on the ground, the final piece of the invader's hold upon Edward.

"Alphonse," he said after he turned his attention back to the brothers. "We need to get Edward to a hospital as soon as possible, and -" Roy tried to stand up, but his legs felt as heavy as lead and his knees unbent only slightly before he sank back to the ground. _How embarrassing_!

"Major Armstrong, I can't seem to stand up, could you help here?" He laughed lightly, if a bit nervously.

Alex smiled that smile, that scary,scary smile as if he understood all too well. His left arm reached out and encircled both of the brothers at once, Alphonse squawked with alarm but he continued to clutch Edward to his chest as Alex's grip tightened. "Thank you, Major. Now go and find a medic - AAK! Put me down!"

Roy was mortified when Alex slipped the other arm about Roy's torso and hefted him off the ground to dangle like a sack of grain. "You're done in Colonel, please allow me to convey you to medical aid!" Roy's half-hearted protest was brushed aside and he hoped no one he knew, least of all his former subordinates, saw him being carried like this.

* * *

At about the same time, a team of battlefield medics was scouring the area of Armstrong Park for wounded soldiers to tend to when they found the body of Alfon Heidreich. One women noted the care with which his hands had been crossed on his breast and the scarf arranged to cover his face. He looked dead, but her instructor had taught her to observe and confirm. She dropped to one knee and placed two fingers on the side his neck, pressing them firmly into the flesh. She turned her head after barely ninety seconds and called out to her fellows. "Stretcher over here! I've got a pulse!"

**Author's note #2:** It's too late for Christmas, but will calling this chapter a New Year's present do?


	78. I Woke In My Nation

**THE WATERS OF LETHE**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA, I just like to play around in its world and torture Ed for a while.

**Warnings:** Bad language; implied EdxWin

**Beta: **Took-baggins

_Chapter 78__: I Woke In My Nation_ (Ich erwachte Herein Mein Volk)

Central was enjoying a spell of what Amestrians called "Ishbalan summer", and a window next to Edward's bed was halfway open when he finally woke up. He first heard faint sounds of footsteps and people talking underneath the _gaara-gaara-gaara_ of wheels turning, and this perplexed him because they were so different from the sounds around the cell he'd been imprisoned in. His nose twitched at the smells of dust, and of food cooking coming through the window from outside; and the scents of antiseptic and weak bleach from inside made him wrinkle his nose. By now almost fully conscious, he listened hard while still keeping his eyes closed. An experimental movement of his left foot brought a rustling of bed sheets redolent with bleach, and stiffened with a bit too much starch to his ears. The discordant racket of truck gears clashing outside made his body jerk with surprise.

The sun shone full on his face and he felt its warmth, like fingers of a lover caressing him. A soft breeze played across his cheeks and ruffled his hair, tumbling long bangs across his nose. Edward sneezed lightly, and then grumbled under his breath before he buried his face into the pillow. He wanted to sleep; he _needed_ to sleep, so why was the whole world being so _noisy_? Something wooden creaked behind him, followed by a sigh breaking and he stiffened. Someone was close by and watching him, and he wondered if it was the soldiers Eckart had assigned to guard him. Edward's eyelids fluttered open; he closed them again and smacked his lips together. _Feh_. He'd drooled in his sleep again, and his lips, plus his entire chin felt sticky with dried liquid.

He rolled over to his left side, reluctant to wake up because the siren call of sleep still beckoned to him. It offered soft and warm oblivion, far from the mental stress and pain of daily life. Then the unknown person who watched him cleared its throat and all thought of taking up sleeps offer flew out the window. He blinked, once, twice, and then three times before he opened his eyes and beheld the person who sat quietly in a straight-backed wooden chair right next to the bed. Edward stared in complete and utter amazement, mixed with a touch of bewilderment.

He opened his mouth to say a name, but his voice box was rusty from months of non-use, and the single word came out forced and cracked. The two syllables ended in a high-pitched sound of query as he never expected to see this person again.

"Winry?"

* * *

'You were unconscious for ten days, Ed."

Edward flicked his eyes up towards her and he managed to look surprised despite the awkward position. He lay on his stomach, left arm flung straight out from his body while Winry sat on the bed next to him, carefully poking a probe through the delicate innards of his machine world made arm. Edward opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it and he snapped it shut before a new conversational thread suggested itself. "Ten days, Win?!" He swallowed hard to push back the lump that suddenly arose in his throat. "It feels more like ten YEARS to be honest."

Winry's hand paused the movement of the probe briefly, and looked up from her work. She didn't want to miss an inch of this strange technology, yet she also wanted to study every plane and curve of Edward's face. He'd been gone for six long years, while she grew from a girl into a woman. Even when she was trying to convince a suddenly ten year old Alphonse that Edward was dead and gone for good, she hadn't wanted to believe it herself. The pain had been indescribable, although it faded somewhat over six years. Yet, in the middle of the night, Winry felt it was still there. Pain that felt like a partially scabbed over wound, one which stubbornly refused to heal.

She'd thrown herself into automail work down in Rush Valley, spending five years apprenticed to old Dominic until he abruptly retired himself from mentorship, saying he'd nothing more to teach her. Winry had been at a loss to know what to do, after talking it over with Paninya, she'd taken a train back to Risembool, to ask Granny for advice. Winry had to change trains in Central and while walking through the echoing cavern of Central's main tran station, she remembered the times she'd been here before. She'd come alone the first time, it was a spur of the moment visit to surprise the brothers. That trip almost ended badly when she'd been kidnapped by that insane serial killer, Barry the Chopper, who'd nearly made a "Winry-roast" out of her.

The second time through this train station, she'd accompanied the brothers on their way to Dublith, and she'd conned Ed into making a side trip to Rush Valley - "Boomtown of the Broken Down". They hadn't known about the murder of Maes Hughes at the time, and that tragedy would always tinge her memories of the trip. They washed around in her brain like her fellow passengers washed around her body, and Winry was surprised suddenly to discover tears were leaking out of her eyes and streaming down her face. A friendly porter, thinking she was an out-of-towner who'd gotten lost came to her aid just then. He offered her a clean handkerchief, and personally escorted her to the correct train; he'd been so kind, Winry didn't have the heart to tell him she knew exactly which track the train to Risembool was leaving from.

Winry had just settled herself into her seat when she saw a flash of red coat in the Departure Hall; she stood up and stared hard. The figure was small and for a moment, just for a moment, she thought it might be Ed. Then she remembered: Ed was dead. He was gone. He wasn't coming back and his body lay only the sky knew where. The train began to move soon after, gathering momentum before it hurtled itself out of the station and onto the main line that stretched like metal ribbons towards Risembool. Winry closed the window only partially, so she'd know she was close to home when the air changed to the sweet smell she associated with her childhood.

She fell asleep somewhere between Central and New Optain, her head pillowed on one palm and swaying with the train's gentle movement. Winry's mind descended into darkness and she began to dream.

* * *

_Three Days Ago..._

The phone rang and Winry raced Paninya to the instrument. As usual,the other girl's prosthetic legs gave her an unfair advantage and she snatched the headpiece off the cradle two strides before Winry's fingers were even close. Paninya stood there with one hand on a hip, eyes bright and mouth stretched open in a thousand-watt grin as she delivered her rehearsed sales patter into the mouthpiece.

"Rockbell Automail - Rush Valley division!" she chirped brightly. "Offering customers Risembool quality and service, with Rush Valley flair. This is Paninya speaking, how may I help you?"

Facing her, Winry jigged from foot to foot, impatient to find out who was calling and from where. Paninya gave her a mock frown, and shook a finger of her free hand at her friend. "Uh, huh, is that right?" her brow furrowed and her frown deepened as she strained to hear over the weak, static-filled connection. Phone service to and from Central had just been restored that morning and the people of Rush Valley, far enough from the battle zones, were anxious for fresh news. "What's your name again? Al - Alfred? Albert? Aloysius? What's that? Oh - ALPHONSE! Sure, she's right here, and - "

Paninya squeaked in surprise when Winry yanked the phone out of her hand and pressed the headpiece to her ear, and then wished she hadn't. A loud whistling sound had abruptly joined the static and the noise pierced right through her skull. "Hello? HELLO? Is that really you, Al?" Winry clapped a hand over her left ear and it helped her hear better - but just a little. She shushed Paninya forcefully and concentrated on listening. "Go ahead, Al." His voice was faint, but enough came through Winry could tell it was deeper; _his voice must have broken_, she thought. Yet beneath the maturity, her ear caught hints of the ten year old Alphonse. Suddenly, an abrupt burst of static wiped out a whole sentence.

"What? Say it again, Alphonse. The static - ".

He repeated it, slowly and as articulately as he could, despite the circumstances. Winry's jaw dropped and the hand holding the headpiece began to tremble, the phone began to slip through her fingers. Then, suddenly, Al's voice, and the static were gone, replaced by the high-pitched hum of a dropped connection. Winry growled deep in her throat and jiggled the cradle, "Operator? Operator! I've lost the connection, can you get it back? What? Telephones are for 'Official use only'? That's not fair! Oh, all right, operator, I understand. Thanks."

Winry stuck her lower lip out in a pout as she set the headpiece back into the cradle with rather more force than her deferential tone towards the operator indicated. She knew she was being childish, but this was vitally important and she HAD to find out more. She wondered if the railroad line to Central was clear and if so, could she get to the Rush Valley station in time to catch the last train?

"I know that look on your face, Winry, you've got news!" Paninya was nose to nose with Winry, a serious look on her face. "Don't hold out on your friend, now - uh, Winry?" Paninya said this some concern because Winry had suddenly collapsed into an armless wooden chair next to the phone table, her own face a couple of shades paler than before. She looked up at her friend and partner with tears brimming in her eyes, the blue sparkling like a late summer sky.

"He's back, Paninya, he's back!" Al just called to tell me, and - "

**"WHO IS?!" **Paninya interrupted, curious to know everything right away. "Is he cute? Is he rich? Does he need automail?" The other woman was in her "all business" mode.

"Ed, Paninya." Winry said in a soft voice filled with wonder and hope. "It's Ed, Edward Elric. I - I thought he was dead, but he's not. He's back and in a hospital in Central and he's sick. Al said he was exhausted and just needed rest, he seemed to be getting better, but now he's very sick."

* * *

_Central Military Hospital #1_

A semi-conscious Edward groaned, and then thrashed wildly against the leather straps that bound him to the bed for a few minutes before he fell back with a loud moan. His head rolled left and right and he whimpered, deep in the grip of delirium caused by a skyrocketing fever. His legs kicked a few times, and the leather groaned, but continued to hold him down.

These symptoms had appeared barely three days after his last dose of the Puppetmaster drug. Now he was free of the drugs influence, no one had given any thought to the concept he might need to be weaned slowly off of it. The side effects started with complaints about a dull headache that throbbed behind his eyes, followed by a mild fever, not serious, but bad enough to make him refuse his dinner. His temperature rose and rose until his skin was almost too hot to touch, and his hair and pajamas were soaked in sweat. Edward descended into delirium and he didn't recognize anyone, not even Alphonse. An orderly brought the leather straps and secured him early the next morning after he tore the needle of an intravenous tube out of his left arm.

Alphonse stood next to Edward's bed, his teeth clenched and hands clasped so tightly into fists his fingernails scored red half moons into the palms. The old Edward, the Edward he remembered was just coming back and re-connecting when he was pulled away again. All Alphonse could do was stand there and watch his beloved brother suffer. That strange man, Alex Armstrong had left two days ago for the Cselkcess ruins, in hopes of finding a Xingese healer among the trading caravans that stopped at that desert oasis for water. He'd promised not to return to Central without such a person.

In his right pants pocket were forty half pills, twenty doses of the Puppetmaster drug. He was debating with himself if he should give one of those halves to Edward, if it would alleviate his pain. Alphonse reached into the pocket and felt around in the jumble of pills, his slim fingers separated one out and he brought it into the light. He stared at it sightlessly for a moment before he turned to the bedside table, picked up a pitcher of water, and poured a splash into the glass that stood next to it.

Alphonse dropped the half pill into the liquid and watched it dissolve before he picked up the glass and swirled it in a lazy circle to make sure the entire pill was gone. "Here, brother." He reached for the strap which bound Edward's left wrist, the buckles were designed so they could be opened or closed with just one hand. Just a little twist and...

His fingers were just a fraction of an inch away from the buckle when Roy entered the room and cried out in his 'obey me or else' voice, "No, Alphonse! Don't open that!"

Alphonse leaped easily six inches into the air, the glass jogged from his suddenly nerveless hand, fell, and struck the table, the water sloshing out when the glasses side broke, and some of it soaked a small potted begonia. Then the remainder of the glass toppled over and hit the floor, shattering into hundreds of pieces. Alphonse had come back to earth by then, and he turned and stared at Roy with a wide-eyed gaze, his startled brown eyes seemingly twice as large. He babbled his reasoning in a rush of words that tumbled out of his mouth like panicked kittens, "But, Mr. Mustang! It was just half a pill; I wanted to ease Brother's pain! He can't take any more of the withdrawal symptoms!"

Roy countered Alphonse's logic, he lowered the volume and made his voice was a little softer. But Alphonse could hear the steel in it,that once enabled him to command hundreds of soldiers "We agreed, Alphonse, 'cold turkey' was the best way to wean Edward off this drug."

Riza walked softly into the room just then, she was wearing civilian clothes, a lavender blouse, and a dark grey skirt, her left arm in a sling. Her voice was even softer than Roy's, but just a little. She must have heard Roy's shout because she finished his thought for him. "Alphonse, I know it's killing you to see your brother in so much pain, but it's almost over. The healer from Xing has arrived."

_The healer is here?! Mr. Armstrong had kept his promise!_

Alphonse's spirits soared as he looked down at the puddle of water dotted with glass shards on the floor, and then he shuddered. He'd nearly given this poison to his brother! "Thank you, Mr. Mustang." He nodded at Roy before he impulsively walked up to Riza and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. Roy's eyes widened briefly before they narrowed as a scowl passed across his face, but then it was gone, replaced by a smile at Alphonse's retreating form. The boy had walked out of the room, back straight and shoulders squared, with a hopeful smile plastered to his face.

"I hope he won't do that to Armstrong," Roy chuckled in a warm tone he'd saved especially for Riza, his good humor restored by the sight of her blushing face. "He'd be so overcome with emotion, there's no telling how hard or how long he'd hug Alphonse."

He looked over at Edward, who still struggled against the leather straps, and his smile faded just before he said curtly, "Excuse me, Riza" and he walked out of the room, as if also in search of Armstrong with the Xingese healer. Riza was left alone with Edward and she wasn't quite sure of what to do. She was officially on medical leave because of the injuries she'd suffered in the strafing attack at New Optain, but she felt restless and wanted to do _something. _Except now there wasn't anything to do but hurry up and wait.

Riza wondered if she should find a broom and dustpan and sweep up all the broken glass, and then mop up the water, but her mind quickly rejected that idea. The sling on her arm made handling tools impossible and her eyes ran over the bedside table which now had a tiny chip taken out of its edge by the glass. That potted begonia...

Riza froze in place. The plant was dead, the once blue flowers turned brown, the leaves wilted and the stems drooped over the sides of the pot. A shiver ran through her at the realization Edward had been fed that drug for months. _If the drug had done that to a plant, what had it done to Edward's body and mind?_

* * *

Alphonse's original intent was to find Alex Louis Armstrong and hug the stuffing out of him, but when he finally located the gigantic alchemist, he realized there was no way his arms would come close to encircling the man's body. In the end, he merely smiled at Alex and mouthed his gratitude before hugging his right arm as hard as he could.

"You kept your promise, Mr. Armstrong, just like Brother kept his. Thank you."

Alex smiled back and the pink sparkles around his head surged in anticipation of an emotional outburst. His teeth were huge and square and looked frightening, even when softened by the gentle blue glow coming from his eyes. "Alphonse, may I present Kong Qian, the man who will heal your brother."

Alphonse let go of Alex and turned to face the man, bowing low as he said, "I'm very pleased to meet you, Mr. Qian." But a frosty silence greeted that remark and he looked up to meet the unreadable face of a delicate looking man dressed in a suit of what looked like pajamas.

The healer wasn't much taller than Alphonse, and he was quite thin, his face a slightly yellowed mask stretched tightly over a bird-like bone structure. His feet were very small in a pair of pale yellow slippers, set primly right next to each other. He looked old, but his face was strangely unmarred by lines or wrinkles, except for a few crow's feet radiating from the lower corners of each eye. His clothing draped silkily over his frame and it was decorated with the shapes of exotic flowers embroidered in rich shades of red and yellow. The sleeves of this strange outfit flared out over his clasped hands, hiding them under a fall of blue.

His face didn't betray any expression, but his eyes did the talking for him. Narrow and so dark they looked black, tiny glints of light from the pupils radiated disapproval at Alphonse. He looked helplessly up at Alex who had stopped smiling.

"Alphonse, the Xingese use their last names first."

The boy processed this information quickly and he bowed again. "I apologize if I gave offense, Mr. Kong."

He looked back up, but Kong Qian's expression hadn't changed in the slightest, although the glinting eyes seemed somehow less _steely_ when they raked over him. He spoke now, his Amestrian surprisingly good, if heavily accented.

"I have come a long way; please show me to the patient now."

Alex raised one eyebrow and he looked over at Alphonse who just shrugged. "Please come this way, Mr. Kong."

* * *

Kong Qian was glaring again at Edward who thrashed against leather straps. He clicked his tongue with annoyance. _Tch! This will not do!_

The array was drawn in chalk on the floor of the hospital room, but Edward was too restless, and he would need to be stilled for the healing transmutation to work. The healer bent to the open wooden box set upon the bedside table and rummaged around in it for a moment before he located the item he needed. He made a pleased sound deep in his throat after he pulled it out, a small red velvet bag tied with a black ribbon. A quick flick of two fingers released the ribbon and the bag opened like a flower in the sun. Kong Qian dipped his first two fingers inside and the tips came back out tinged with a purple dust that shone as if wet.

After he reclosed the bag and replaced it in the box, Kong Qian hopped up onto the bed and straddled Edward, who bucked convulsively and nearly threw him off. But the healer seemed to have anticipated the move and he locked his knees tightly against Edward's side, and he waited patiently for a lull in the young man's thrashing. Edward tired eventually and lay still for the briefest moment. _Now!_

Kong Qian moved quickly, while his left hand held Edward's head still, the two stained fingers of his right hand quickly traced a design on his forehead. He worked with spare, but decisive strokes before sitting back and examining his handiwork: two concentric circles, bisected with arrows that aimed in four directions: North, South, East, and West.

Alphonse, who sat quietly in a chair against the far wall thought it looked like a compass. He leaned forward;, his brown eyes narrowed, and memorized the circle, committing it to memory. He wasn't very familiar with the healing alchemy of Xing and he'd watched Kong Qian like a hawk, fascinated by the differences between it and Amestrian alchemy. A particular feeling was growing by the minute and Alphonse decided he wanted to learn more about it. If only he could summon up the nerve to ask the poker-faced little man if he wanted to take on another apprentice. Because Kong Qian had mentioned he already had one who was working healing a badly injured patient elsewhere in the hospital, but perhaps he wouldn't be adverse to two?

Edward was working up to another episode of thrashing just about when Kong Qian touched the edge of the outermost circle with the first two fingers of his left hand. A soft blue light, accompanied by the subtlest of hums, lit up both circles and the arrowed lines. Edward stiffened suddenly and sank back into the mattress; he now seemed to be in an exceptionally deep sleep. His chest rising up and down was the only movement and Kong Qian actually looked pleased as he climbed nimbly back to the floor. "I have caused a temporary paralysis of his voluntary muscles", he announced in satisfied tones to Alphonse and Alex, the only people in the room. Roy was not there as he'd gone to "escort" Riza back to her room, saying she also needed to "rest"; a pronouncement which didn't fool Alex in the slightest.

The healer wiped the residue of the purple powder off his fingers with a large white handkerchief he produced from a hidden pocket of his pajama-like clothes before making a circuit of the bed and unbuckling the leather straps. Edward continued to lay still, his face relaxed and free of the tiny grimaces he'd been making just moments before. "Please to lift him up and on to the array. Carefully now, do not smear the chalk lines." Alex leaned over the bed and scooped up Edward, who looked like a small china doll cradled in Alex's massive, muscle-bound arms. The big man moved with exquisite delicacy as he carried Edward over to the array and laid his unresisting body in the exact center, somehow not so much as smudging one line or rune.

He stepped back, giving way to Kong Qian, who nodded his approval. He reached back into the pockets of his clothing with both hands and each came out holding two odd looking metal devices apiece. Alphonse thought they looked like large arrowheads, the fronts coming to sharp points attached by short shafts to rings decorated with red ribbons. Kong Qian flung his hands into the air and these sharp devices flew up towards the ceiling before they flipped over, points down, and thunked deeply into the wooden floor, one at each of the four compass points.

_I get it now, _Alphonse thought. _Not North, South, East, and West, but Earth, Air, Fire, and Water!_

This was something Alphonse understood, the bringing together of the Four Elements and grounding them. It was a basic preparatory step before attempting any sort of transmutation; and one of the first lessons he'd learned from reading his father's alchemy books.

Kong Qian knelt on the floor next to the circle and placed his hands upon the chalk lines. A subtle hum began and the first tendrils of the alchemic reaction began to hiss and spit like a sack of cobras from arrow point to arrow point. This was also something Alphonse recognized, he'd seen this reaction many times before, but then the sound took on a pitch he'd never heard. It made his skin prickle and the fine hairs at the back of his neck stand up. His entire body had begun to resonate with the hum, a sound that went down to his bones and then deeper still, to the very nuclei of the cells that made up Alphonse Elric. The effect was similar to the failed human transmutation that had taken his body into the Gate and this feeling made him very uncomfortable.

When his eyesight began to darken and he realized he could see objects in the room and the very walls resonate and vibrate in rhythm with the hum, Alphonse started to feel a little afraid. He shot a look over at Alex, who didn't seem perturbed, but his blue eyes had widened a little bit. The pink sparkles about his head danced with the hum, they darkened and lightened and even changed size in time with the rhythm of the healer's alchemy, and Alphonse decided their movement was almost like - heartbeats.

Kong Qian looked over his shoulder at the entranced Alphonse and smiled for the first time. "This is the rhythm, the flow of the energy under the earth's crust. We Xingese call it the "Dragon's Pulse" and have learned how to harness and channel it to perform our alchemy."

Alphonse only had the strength to nod because he felt strangely rooted to the floor, like a sapling tree. Pale blue and dark red lights rose into the air, like writing snakes on either side of Edward's body. They began to bend towards one another, coiling around and around like living helixes before suddenly diving down and into the young man. The lights surfaced occasionally, flashing between his hands and feet before diving back down into the skin, as if Edward was a human-shaped dynamo. Then, to Alphonse's amazement, black vapors, like undulating streams of ink issued from his body, and Alphonse guessed these were the remnants of the Puppetmaster drug still in his system. The atmosphere inside the room darkened, like a premature night had fallen inside just this area.

A cold aura, like a chilly wind emanated from these vapors, as if to symbolize this was a sort of poison being forced out by the healing alchemy. The alchemic lights continued to chase them out of Edward's body until they coalesced into a floating pool of toxins above his head, while the blue and red lights concentrated just above his chest. The lights blended and formed into an arrow shape, as if echoing the metal points on the circle, then they pulsed once with a sharp burst that hurt Alphonse's eyes and made them water. A sound like a small explosion was heard and the dark vapors scattered, before they faded with an unpleasant hissing sound and a chemically odor.

The air began to lighten, until the sunlight streamed in, bright and cheery through the single window again. Alphonse's skin still prickled and he realized it was goose pimpled by a strange freezing cold. The returning warmth of the early fall day began to sink in again until he stopped shivering and the fine hairs on the back of his neck ceased standing up on end. He took a deep breath and the air smelled pure and almost too sweet, he supposed it was a delayed reaction to the stress he'd been under since Edward had fallen ill. He looked down at his brother, who still slept peacefully and Alphonse noticed his face didn't seem as red.

He stepped carefully over the chalk lines and touched the back of his hand to Edward's cheek. The skin was still a bit too warm, but no where as hot and clammy as it had been. A breeze coming from the open window stirred Edward's hair, and some of the strands swayed slightly. Alphonse ran his fingers through his brother's hair, yes, he hadn't imagined it, the outer strands were drying; only the hair close to the scalp was still damp with sweat.

"Here, boy," Alphonse looked to his left, Kong Qian who held out a white handkerchief. "Wipe the symbols off his forehead and he will awaken." The healer was still crouched at the edge of the circle, his face a little paler and sheened with sweat. Alphonse took the offered piece of cloth and gently rubbed at Edward's forehead, folding and re-folding the handkerchief to get all of the purple substance off.

Edward began to stir almost immediately, he moaned softly before he slowly opened his yellow eyes, the blinking lids puffy and lined with crusts of sleep. "Hello, Brother," Alphonse whispered, a smile was crawling across his face and he was helpless to stop it, so he just let his joy shine though. Edward frowned slightly and grunted a sort of reply, before his larynx woke up and he was able to answer in proper words.

"Hey Al, I'm starved. What must I do to get something to eat around here?"

_He's hungry! Brother is hungry! _Alphonse couldn't help laughing at this, and he did so until he started to cry.

* * *

Roughly about an hour later, a tired Kong Qian wandered down to the Intensive Care Unit of Central Military Hospital #1. A low pitched hum and flashes of light issued from the doorway of a room just off of it, and his body began to resonate with the so familiar hum. The closer he came to it, the stronger the reaction and the middle-aged man began to feel the aches and pains just melt away into mere distractions. He came to the door of the room and watched approvingly as his apprentice finished the healing ritual.

The patient, a blond man with pale skin, lay unmoving in the middle of the circle. Alex had told him this man was from the same country as the invaders, but not as an aggressor. He'd been a prisoner too, just like the Amestrian Kong Quan had recently healed, but his injury was more serious, a near-fatal gunshot wound to the chest. The man was one of the few survivors from the large army that had cut such a swath of destruction through eastern Amestris, Word was he could speak their language and Military Intelligence was very anxious to question him as to the technology of the world he came from.

Kong Qian was intrigued too, because there was a an old Xingese legend about a parallel world, but, he'd always supposed it was just old alchemist's tales. Now to find out this story, like the tale of Xerxes, the city that vanished in a single night, had a grain of truth behind it was almost too exciting for words.

The apprentice ended the transmutation, and the hum and the glow faded while the room grew brighter. The young man hadn't so much as twitched, but he had more color to his skin and his chest movement was more pronounced, as if his breathing had improved. The apprentice nodded at two orderlies who stood against the far wall as if paralyzed, both of them jerked into motion like puppets brought to life with harsh yanks. They bowed to the apprentice and murmured thanks in their ungraceful Amestrian language before they carefully picked up the young man and set him on a gurney. They wheeled it through an open doorway and back into the Intensive Care Unit, not that the patient would need such care anymore.

The apprentice stood up and faced him, staring with unblinking coal black eyes before she closed those eyes and bowed. Kong Qian bowed back, a mark of courtesy to an accomplished student. "Well done, Mei Chan."

That was all he said to her, because that was all he _needed_ to say. Kong Qian was an economical man and he did not believe in waste, even of words. The girl turned and began to clean up the room, first retrieving her arrow-like _quoins_ and then sweeping up the chalk lines of the array. A careful alchemist always disabled the circle in order to protect non-alchemists from its power. Footsteps sounded behind him and the girl froze, her face a carefully arranged unreadable mask turned towards the intruder.

Kong Qian didn't turn around at first because he knew the steps belonged to the brown-eyed brother. He turned slowly and deliberately and raked his steely gaze up and down the boy who stood, frozen and indecisive, like a bird hypnotized by a snake. The child trembled, his eyes wide and his expression candid. He wasn't surprised when the boy dropped to his knees and begged Kong Qian to make him his apprentice. Because he knew the boy would come to ask him from the first moment they'd met.

The healer carefully considered the question. From his demeanor in the hospital room, the boy knew about alchemy, more importantly, he also knew how to keep his mouth shut and watch, listen and learn. On the other hand, he was an Amestrian, a barbarian, one of a people who (supposedly) delighted in bringing strife and misery to the people of other nations. Was this uncouth child even capable of learning the ancient and noble Xingese alchemy? The boy stayed down on his knees, head bowed, until he suddenly looked up, those dark brown eyes pierced Kong Qian to the quick with their naked determination. He made his decision in an instant and the boy's face fell after he spoke the first sentence.

* * *

His intravenous tubes re-connected, Edward slept peacefully on, unconscious to the drama that had just gone on around him. Alphonse, however, was not peaceful, and he jigged nervously in place. Alex had sat down in a wooden chair close to the bed, his head down and blue eyes closed, as if mentally digesting the recent events. Alphonse felt he would watch over Brother and he muttered "excuse me" before going to the door and opening it.

It was now or never and he sprinted down the hallway at a half-run, his breath coming in quick, anxious bursts. He slowed to a walk if a nurse or orderly walked by with a clipboard or a patient n a wheelchair, but he was moving on the double once that person was past and out of earshot. He didn't know where to start looking for Kong Qian and he peeked into each half open doorway he passed in hopes of seeing him. But, his previously high spirits began to vanish like smoke in the wind, as the number of rooms empy of Mr. Kong increased.

Not until he got to the third floor and smelled the slightly ozone-y air did he know he was on the right track. Only the after effects of a transmutation could give the air that particular tang and he just had to follow his nose. Alphonse followed it right into a room off the Intensive Care Unit, and walked in without knocking. The healer stood with his back to Alphonse, but a few feet away and facing him was one of the prettiest girls he'd ever seen.

The girl was dressed similarly to Kong Qian, but in a pink outfit embroidered with a sinuous green dragon and trimmed with piping in a darker green. She was very slight, her head barely reaching to Alphonse's chest. Her hair was black, glossy and very long, gathered up into two large braids twirled on each side of her head. From each braid cascaded three smaller and more tightly wound braids which reached down almost to her ankles, Alphonse thought she looked exquisite, like a perfectly sculpted little porcelain doll. Her face was a blank mask, the only signs of personality coming from her black eyes that snapped at him like firecrackers.

Alphonse shook his head, he wasn't here to admire a pretty girl, but ask the healer a very important question. He dropped to the floor and bowed low after the man finally turned his way.

"Please Mr. Kong! Make me your apprentice!"

Alphonse stayed still and waited, he could feel Kong Qian's eyes boring a hole in him, and also felt like a bug under a microscope. Maybe the healer thought he was just kidding? _I'm serious! Dammit!_ He threw his head up and his wide dark brown eyes met Kong Qian's narrow black ones. Their gazes locked and made silent conversation, now Alphonse couldn't have looked away, even if he'd wanted to.

"Yes, boy, I will take you as my second apprentice. But not right now. Your brother will need you, and your duty lies in helping him recover. Study hard for one year; absorb everything there is to know about your country's alchemy. Come to the place you call the Cselkcess ruins, in one year's time. Mei-Chan and I will be waiting for you." The healer nodded once before he turned his back on Alphonse and began to address his apprentice in Xingese.

As before, Alphonse felt a smile crawling of its own volition across his face, but he refrained from bursting into laughter, or even tears. He somehow felt those reactions would not do as befitting an apprentice-to-be of the dignified Xingese healer. Instead, he stood back up and bowed again in his direction before turning smartly and walking out the door. Alphonse looked outwardly calm, but inside his heart thudded against his ribs and his thoughts scrambled around like stampeding mice inside his skull. The enormity of his decision almost took his breath away, but he felt he'd done the right thing.

**Author's note #2:** Too late for Christmas, but will this do as a Happy New Years present? Here is to a 2010 full of great fan-fiction!


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